


Bolt and Keeper

by jbhughes54enwiler



Series: Bolt and Keeper [1]
Category: Wings of Fire - Tui T. Sutherland
Genre: Action/Adventure, Dragons, Gen, Major Original Character(s), Science Fiction, scavenger - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 59,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23897614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jbhughes54enwiler/pseuds/jbhughes54enwiler
Summary: Bolt is a 16-year-old human boy with a tragic past and a mysterious destiny, and the ability to communicate with dragons telepathically.Keeper is a young SandWing shopkeeper in the dragon town of Possibility, down on his luck and hoping for a lucky break.When the two meet, their paths intertwine and make waves across the entire continent of Pyrrhia.  When a scavenger and a dragon can talk to each other, what new possibilities will become tangible?  Find out in Bolt and Keeper, a Wings of Fire fanfiction!Those looking for a reference of Bolt I drew myself can find it on my Deviantart page at:https://www.deviantart.com/jbhughes54enwiler/art/Bolt-in-High-Definition-843383180Until I can figure out how to post images with my fanfics like I saw another AO3 user do, you can also see a picture I drew of Bolt's bow, knife, and "silver torch" on DeviantArt athttps://www.deviantart.com/jbhughes54enwiler/art/Bolt-s-Tools-843156281I also have a drawing made for the next chapter, which I will either post here or put up another DA link.
Series: Bolt and Keeper [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722475
Comments: 37
Kudos: 39





	1. Convergence

BOLT AND KEEPER

BY JBHUGHES54ENWILER

\----------------------------------------------------

Chapter One: Convergence

-Bolt-

Bolt was a sixteen-year-old human boy with messy blond hair and pale skin, which was apparently rare; he had never seen another human like himself besides the people who once lived in his village. But that little town was gone, it had been for eleven years. He was long past the point where he felt sad about what happened to his friends and family, or so he wanted to believe. Some days he would spontaneously cry, sometimes in the middle of setting up his camp or cooking his meals, and soak the scarf he vowed to never take off in his tears.

Ah, yes, his scarf. It was a pale brown strip of cloth. Long enough that even when it was wrapped around his neck and face there was still a portion of it that trailed behind him like a tail. It belonged to his father, and it was one of the only things besides Bolt himself that emerged relatively unscathed from the dragon assault on his childhood home. It was his most valuable possession, or at least to Bolt it was. Besides his scarf he wore cotton trousers, a green jacket over a white cotton shirt, and well-worn leather boots he had purchased off of a craftsman in Safe Harbor with some of the savings he had managed to rescue from his old town, which was For Emergencies Only.

Bolt had been all over the continent. He had seen the spires of the Mountain Dragons’ castle, (From a very safe distance of course) he had taken refreshing dips in just about every river and stream there was, and he had attempted to enter the Indestructible City, but as it turned out they had a thing called an “orphanage” that tried to hold him captive and he did not want to be held prisoner in a cramped (But nonetheless safe) place like that, so he escaped, quite dashingly, into the night and never went back.

This morning Bolt had felled a large rabbit with his trusty bow and arrow he made himself, and he had the animal roasting on a spit over a fire at his camp, somewhere in the central part of the continent just north of the Indestructible City. He almost never got lost, thanks to a map he had bought in Talisman and another trinket from his birthplace, a mysterious contraption he had heard his father call a “compass.” It had a little arrow inside of it that always pointed the same direction: north. After a lot of trial and error, (The way he had learned just about everything) he learned to navigate with the combination of map and compass and it allowed him to go just about anywhere without fear of losing his way.

When Bolt was satisfied with the rabbit, he took it off the fire and began to cut it up with a short knife he had clipped to his backpack. Soon his meal was ready to be eaten, and he did so happily. Cooking was something that had taken Bolt years to perfect on his own. He still shuddered when he remembered the forest fire he had caused when he was seven. It reminded him too much of the day his parents were eaten, only this time the fire was HIS fault, not that of some flying lizards. For a couple years afterward he refused to cook meat, subsisting only on fruit and vegetables.

As soon as he finished eating, he poured a bucket of water onto the fire, causing it to sputter out in a poof of steam and smoke. He didn’t want to alert any dragons in the area to his position, no matter how warm and comfortable the campfire was, ESPECIALLY not after the debacle that was The Third Day I Almost Got Eaten, where his campfire had attracted a hungry Mountain Dragon (Apparently he was irresistible to Mountain Dragons, as this was the SECOND time a Mountain Dragon tried to eat him) and it took all his wits and hiding skills to escape death that afternoon.

“OK, let’s get this camp packed up,” Said Bolt to himself, and he got up from the ground where he was sitting and began to take apart his campsite.

He had gotten VERY good at putting up and taking down his camp. He didn’t have an exact record, but he believed the fastest he had ever deployed or packed up his camp was ten minutes. He started with his tent; took his sleeping bag out of the inside and rolled it up, then pulled up the stakes holding the canopy in place. The tent promptly collapsed. He picked up the tent and shook the dew off of it, then began to fold it. Once it was small enough, Bolt produced his backpack and stuffed the tent inside.

Next he gathered his various tools such as his knife and his bow, and he attached them to his pack, but not before washing off the knife in a nearby brook, since it still had blood on it from his recent meal. His quiver had only three arrows left in it. (“I’ll have to make some more,” he thinks)

Bolt suddenly felt a mild prickling sensation in his right wrist, followed by a pounding headache that forced him to stop what he was doing and cradle his cranium with both hands. “Augh, what’s going on!?” He shouted painfully to himself, “That’s the third time this week this happened!”

Bolt waited for the pain to subside, and soon he was at work once more. He kicked some dirt onto the embers of his cooking fire to ensure the fire would not come back, and uprooted the spit from the ground, folded the legs of the spit, and tied the whole thing to the side of his bag with some rope. After he attached his rolled-up sleeping bag to his backpack, he picked the bag up and strapped it across both his shoulders. But as he did so, a silver cylinder fell out of one of the pack’s pockets and *clunked* on the ground.

“Whoops!” Exclaimed Bolt, and he knelt down and picked up the device.

This was something of Bolt’s that truly amazed him, and would no doubt be considered priceless if he were to try to sell it, which he never would even if he needed the money. The device was a short silver cylinder that was slightly wider at one end, with the wider end having an open space covered in a strange transparent material, through which one could see a highly reflective surface with a transparent “bulb” of sorts in the center. On the side of the device was a piece he could move with his thumb, and when he did so, the “bulb” inside would light up with the brightness of a hundred torches, and without any risk of setting fire to its surroundings. Just like his other “magic” thing; his compass, this “silver torch” came from a big metal box that survived the burning of his old village, the same box all his money came from. Bolt placed the silver torch back into its special pocket on the backpack and soon he departed the area.

“Where to next?” He wondered. “I’m feeling pretty confident, maybe I’ll scale this here mountain.” And with that, he embarked on his next journey.

-Keeper-

Keeper the SandWing had heard tales of the Denless Scavenger, the little scavvie that supposedly didn’t live in a den like others of its kind did. Instead, the creature had a tiny, personal den that moved every day with it, never staying in one place for long. A visiting SkyWing told Keeper that this scavenger was a vicious, successful hunter for its kind, saying she had seen the little thing take down a bull almost twice its size with a well-placed strike from its tiny bow.

“What a little scavvie would do with that much meat is anyone’s guess,” the SkyWing told him, “Scavengers are strange animals, I’ll tell you that much.”

At noon, Keeper decided to close up his shop in Possibility, (“No one’s buying today, anyway,” He commented to himself.) and go for a fly. He decided on the Diamond Spray River as his destination. Leaving and locking his home/business behind him, he strolled across the bridge into the Sky Kingdom side of the town, and kept going until he reached the edge of town, where he spread his wings and took off into the sky towards the mountains.

The sky was lovely that day. There were barely any clouds, meaning he could see miles ahead of him. He kept flying until he reached the mountain range dividing Pyrrhia in half. Suddenly, he got a strange feeling, as if he was being watched. He looked around him and did not notice any other dragons in his airspace. That’s when he saw it. From this high up, it looked like a pale brown-and-gold speck.

“A scavenger! What’s it doing here!?”

Keeper decided he wanted to study the scavenger more closely. Then he remembered that Winter in the town of Sanctuary was looking for scavengers to populate his scavenger sanctuary. He wondered if he might even get some money out of it. He swooped down towards the little creature.

-Bolt-

Bolt admired the view from his newly-acquired vantage point, where he could see for miles around him. His scarf undulated beautifully in the breeze, hiding the beaming smile on his face.

“I did this,” He proudly said to himself, “I made it up here all on my own!”

His mood plummeted down an endless pit when he saw the Desert Dragon diving straight for him.

“No,” His face going pale, “No no no no! NO!!”

He desperately searched for a hiding place. But it was no good. The plateau he was on was completely flat and level, there wasn’t a hole or crevice in sight. His hands shaking with fear, he ripped his bow off of his backpack and drew an arrow from its quiver. He knew there was no way the stone arrowheads on his arrows would pierce dragon scales, but he wasn’t going to just lay down and let himself get eaten. He was going to go down fighting.

He drew his bow and pulled it taut, trying to keep his fear from throwing off his aim. As the dragon drew closer, he let loose an arrow, trying to hit the dragon in the eye where he knew it would hurt the most.

He missed, the arrow flying far off to the left of the dragon, going straight over its wing and off into the distance. The dragon let out a heart-stopping roar and dived towards him, its talons aiming for his torso, presumably to carry him off to its home where he would be roasted up for lunch. He had no time to draw a second arrow before the dragon reached him and wrenched Bolt straight off the ground, carrying him into the air, the sheer force of its grip almost crushing Bolt’s ribs.

He didn’t know if it was fear or some other stress he was going through at that moment, but his headache returned with a vengeance, searing his vision with agony. With everything that was happening, Bolt missed the fact that a glowing blue ring had appeared on his right wrist, and through all the fear and headaches and certain death, Bolt let out a cry at the very tip-top of his lungs:

“PUT ME DOOOOOOOOOOWWWWNNNN!!!!!!”

-Keeper-

The scavenger noticed him, that was for certain. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that the animal had a strange piece of fabric wrapped around the lower half of its face, covering its nose and mouth, and waving behind it as if the scavvie had a tail coming out of its neck. He also noticed something very intriguing. This scavenger had much brighter skin than any of the ones he had seen in books, a pale pink rather than the MudWing brown he was familiar with. And GOLDEN fur, what a find! Winter would certainly pay him big gold to have a look at THIS specimen!

As he approached the creature, he noticed that it had produced a bow and arrow from the huge bag it was carrying on its back, and was aiming it straight for him.

“Oh, shoot!” He yelled, but before he could dodge, the scavenger let loose its weapon, and a tiny arrow whistled towards him. But thankfully, the arrow missed him entirely.

“Hey, scavvie!!” Roared Keeper, “I’m not going to eat you, I just want to show you to someone!!”

Obviously the scavenger didn’t understand him. Its little paws went for another arrow behind it, but it was too late for that. He grabbed the little animal off the ground as gently as he could. The scavenger squirmed violently in his talons, the poor thing probably thought its life was over. It let out a long squeal that was loud enough for him to hear it over the rushing mountain wind. “OK, the little guy’s REALLY panicking,” he thought. But then a voice not his own shouted with the intensity of a gale inside his head.

“PUT ME DOOOOOOOOOOWWWWNNNN!!!!!!”

-End Chapter-


	2. Understanding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Two coming your way!
> 
> Bolt makes first contact with Keeper. Mayhem ensues.
> 
> I'm going to try to keep to a weekly upload schedule for this story.

Chapter Two: Understanding

-Keeper-

Keeper nearly dropped the scavenger out of sheer surprise. There were no dragons in the area, so the only logical place that voice could have come from would be… The scavenger he’s holding. It had _talked_ to him, not just through its little voice, but _directly into his head!_ Never mind getting some gold for it, Winter would KILL him to get his talons on this creature!

Though it turned out Winter wasn’t the only one who would kill for this scavenger. From behind him out of nowhere soared a pair of SkyWing hunters, a murderous look in their eyes.

The scavenger saw the SkyWings too, and it began to squeak around again, and just like before, the scavvie’s voice sounded in his head once again.

“Not THOSE things too! Am I THAT tasty that I have some magical dragon-attracting force coming out of me!?”

Keeper decided to try his luck at replying to the scavenger. “I was never going to eat you! I just wanted to study you!”

Keeper’s heart skipped a beat when the scavenger spoke back to him.

“WAIT… _YOU CAN_ _TALK_ _!?”_

“I would say the feeling is mutual, scavenger! You’re the first of _your_ kind I’ve ever been able to hold a conversation with! Now please settle down and allow me to get you away from these hunters!”

“What the heck is a scavenger!?”

“You are!”

The SkyWings were much faster in the air than a SandWing like Keeper, and they caught up to him with ease.

“Give us back our prey!!” Shouted one of them, a female.

“No.” Said Keeper simply.

“WE found it first! It’s OUR _right_ to eat it!”

“Don’t _I_ get a choice in this!?” The scavenger shouted. The SkyWings rear back in surprise when they hear him speaking in their heads.

“What the heck was in that goat I ate earlier!?” The other SkyWing, a male, yelled.

Keeper took the opportunity while the hunters were confused to take off with a burst of speed, putting some distance between them. The scavenger was being thrown around violently in the dragon’s talons and, being that scavengers are not built to be shook, especially not soon after a meal, its skin began to turn a pale green.

“I-- I think I’m going to be sick!” It groaned, before quickly pulling its facial covering below its chin and chucking up the rabbit it had eaten earlier, gross chunks falling through the air down below.

“Ugh, disgusting!” Went Keeper.

“I can’t help it! I’ve never been airborne before!”

The female SkyWing dashed ahead of them and blocked their path. She readied her fire-breath, and Keeper quickly dived, avoiding her deadly flames. However, the other hunter was lying in wait below, and he swiped his talons at Keeper’s talons, hoping to rip the little scavenger out of them and feast on its flesh in midair.

“GAH!!” It screamed, both in its squeaky normal voice and its deeper mental voice, “Stay away from me!”

“So you’re really talking and it’s not some figment of my imagination? What’s going on!?” Yelled the SkyWing, while still attempting to steal the small scavenger.

“Do you really think you’d be imagining me talking if all you see me as is food!?”

The SkyWing stopped attacking for a second and scratched his chin. “Huh. That’s a really good point.”

While the male hunter considered his current life situation, the female swooped down from above and sliced into Keeper’s face with her talons. Keeper roared in pain and in that moment, his grip on the scavenger faltered and the “creature” slipped through his claws, plummeting down into the forest below.

“AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!” It screamed as it fell out of sight where neither Keeper nor the SkyWings could see it.

“Good going, you lousy SandWing!” Screamed the male hunter, “The scavenger’s not edible if it’s splattered on the ground! Hmmph! Now we’ll have to find _other_ prey!” The SkyWings soared away into the distance.

-Bolt-

“AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!!!!”

Bolt was falling fast. He flipped around onto his back in midair so hopefully his pack would break his fall at least a little bit, and before too long, he hit the treetops, sharp branches scratching his clothes and slicing the skin on his exposed hands. Soon he was tangled in some vines and he came to a stop, suspended halfway up the tree with no way of escaping.

“GREAT! Now I’m not going to be eaten, but I’m going to _starve_ to death up here! What a day I’m having!”

Bolt stayed put, fuming, in the tree for a minute, then a possible way to escape entered his head.

“No.” He told himself, “I’m _not_ asking a _dragon_ for help!”

But it seemed that it was his only path to survival. The Desert Dragon, against everything he knew about dragons, was not only capable of speech but actually tried to _save his life._ If any dragon would listen to his cries for help, it would be this one.

“I’m going to regret this big-time…” Bolt lamented, before shouting at his loudest: “DESERT DRAGON!! HEEELLLLPPPPP!!!!!!

He heard wing-flaps above him. The dragon was still in the area! He kept screaming as loud as he could.

-Keeper-

“Well... There goes my gold…” Remarked Keeper sadly. “Poor little scavvie…”

He kept hovering over the area the scavenger had fallen. “ _Should I try to see what became of it?”_ Keeper wondered. There was no way the little animal could survive a fall from that height. A minute later, he began to turn around and fly back to Possibility, but before he could, the scavenger’s voice sounded miraculously in his head, a little muffled with distance but still thoroughly understandable.

“DESERT DRAGON!! HEEELLLLPPPPP!!!!!!”

Not only was the scavenger alive, it was calling for _his_ help! Getting a somewhat swelled ego, (“ _OK, I’ll be this little guy’s hero!”)_ he swooped down into the forest canopy.

-Bolt-

With a huge rush of wind, the Desert Dragon landed in the forest right below him.

“Scavenger? Were are you?” Bolt was still hearing roars and rumbles coming out of the dragon’s mouth, but for some reason he was hearing perfect English inside his head!

“I’m up here!” Bolt yelled down to the dragon. It looked up and saw Bolt hanging from vines and branches, and a smile, _a smile,_ touched its lips. “ _What the heck is going on?”_ He wondered within himself, _“First dragons_ talk _, now they_ smile _just like we do!? What is the world coming to!?”_

“Hold on, I’ve got you!” Growled the dragon, and it grasped the trunk of the tree holding Bolt captive, and began to shake it with all its might. Unfortunately, the tree did not release its grip on Bolt. “Ugh, I wish I could climb this tree!”

“Yeah, that would be interesting to watch,” Replied Bolt, his scarf hiding the smirk on his face.

The dragon spread its wings and, apparently trying to be gentle, it flapped up to his height. “Hold still,” It grumbled, and it slashed at the vines holding Bolt with its claws. Claws that could just as easily disembowel him were cutting him loose from his tangled prison. This was going to be a day he would _never_ forget. Bolt, now freed, tumbled down the rest of the way and crashed back-first into the ground with a surprised “Ugh” escaping his lips on impact. The dragon landed gracefully in front of him.

“Are you okay? You’re kinda cute, I think I’ll call you Goldie! ‘Cause of your gold fur!”

“ABSOLUTELY NOT!! I _have_ a name! If you’re going to call _me_ by a pet name, then I’m going to make one up for _you!”_

“Fair enough. What is your name, scavvie?”

“I’m Bolt, though some little kids in Talisman would like to have you believe I go by ‘Scarfy Boy.’ (He sees the dragon’s confused look) My name’s Bolt!”

“My name is Keeper. And I’m not a ‘Desert Dragon,’ I’m a SandWing!”

“And I’m not a ‘scavenger,’ we call ourselves ‘humans!’”

-Keeper-

“Humans… _Humans…_ What an interesting name for your species! Definitely more elegant than ‘scavengers.’ Say, why are you covering your face with that cloth?” Keeper reached out to try and pull off Bolt’s facial covering. The “human” whipped his hand to his bag and pulled out an arrow, pointing it at his face.

“Try to take this scarf off of me and I’ll stick this arrow somewhere you’re REALLY not going to like it.”

“OK, I’m sorry.” Keeper rubbed the spot on his face where the SkyWing had scratched him. The wound was starting to get raw.

“You’re hurt…” Went Bolt, concern lilting his voice, “Hang on, I’ve got just the thing for this.”

The human pulled his bag off of his shoulders and began to dig through it. The little guy must have been prepared for _anything._ That’s when it hit him. This little human was the Denless Scavenger! Stars above, he had run into a living _legend_ among scavengers! Though he had imagined the Denless Scavenger being a little bigger, a little older-looking…

“How old are you, Bolt?”

“Sixteen.”

Holy flying salamanders, this scavenger was eight whole _years_ older than he was, and not even fully grown! He had read somewhere that scavengers took _way_ longer to mature than dragons did, but this was ridiculous. The little guy was old enough to be his father, if such a thing were possible.

“I’m eight,” Keeper said back. Looking closely at what he could see of Bolt’s face, he noticed that his cheeks were puffing up and a chattering squeak escaped his tiny mouth. He didn’t need telepathy to figure out the scavenger was emitting his equivalent of laughter. “ _Just how alike are we?”_ Wondered Keeper.

Bolt went “Aha!” and produced a bottle containing a bunch of leaves and some packages containing tiny strips of white cloth. He popped the cap off of the bottle and walked up to Keeper.

“What are you doing with those?” Keeper asked.

“Just trust me, these will help. You saved me from those other dragons, so I’m going to save you from getting infected. It’s the least I can do. Lower your head to me so I can rub these herbs on that cut.”

Keeper did so, and Bolt poured the leaves, which were very slimy, onto his paws.

“This might sting a little,” Said Bolt reassuringly.

Bolt’s little paws rubbed oily leaves all over the cuts on his cheek. A couple seconds later, a piercing pain flared up on his cuts, and Keeper let out a startled roar, causing Bolt to stumble backwards and fall onto his bottom. But soon, the pain faded away into nothing, even the raw feeling was gone! Bolt got back up and opened a bunch of packages of the white cloth. He stuck the cloths (Apparently it had some adhesive attached to it) onto the cut and left them there.

“Leave that bandage on for a couple days, then rip it off. You’ll be as good as new.”

Keeper struggled to form a response. One thing was for certain, he had respect for this little creature now. Despite being on the opposite end of the food chain, Bolt had helped him with his injuries as if he were a… Friend. Now came the hard decision: Should he let Bolt go?


	3. Union

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bolt moves in with Keeper, and the two of them begin to bond. It isn't long before Bolt's childhood trauma comes to the surface, and Keeper will have to play the role of comforter for his new human companion.

Chapter Three: Union

-Keeper-

_Should I let Bolt go?_ Keeper wondered. It wouldn’t sit right with him to treat the human as a mere animal anymore, it was obvious he was as intelligent as any dragon would be. That also meant keeping Bolt in a sanctuary where he’d be considered lesser than the dragons would also be wrong. He felt he could do something greater than merely establish a scavenger sanctuary where humans are kept against their will. He would do something far better. He would build a bridge between scavengers and dragons, using Bolt as the key to communication between the two species.

“Bolt…” Said Keeper, “Would you like to live with me?”

“What!?” Exclaimed Bolt, “Why the heck would I do that!?”

“Because there are so many dragons who would love to talk with you!”

“Many more who would like to eat me, I think.”

“I will guard you with my life.”

“While the idea of having a dragon bodyguard sounds tempting… I _like_ living on my own! I’m free to go wherever I want! What way of living is better than that?”

“Because if I can help you convince dragons across the continent that humans are an intelligent species like we are, we can ensure that no dragon eats one of you again!”

-Bolt-

OK, _that_ hit a soft spot. All he ever wanted was for the dragons to stop burning villages and eating people. What if he _could_ help unite their species? Would it work? Ushering in a new, cooperative society where mammal and reptile walk hand in talon? It honestly sounded too good to be true. And there would certainly be dragons _and_ humans who would oppose such a change.

_What would my parents do?_

He only knew his parents for five years before dragons killed them. He didn’t have a perfect memory of what they were like, but he knew with all his heart that they loved him and would support any decision he made. But this was a gamble, this type of choice could blow spectacularly up in his face, and would likely end with chewed-up pieces of him stewing away inside a dragon’s gut. But then again, it was likely he’d end up that way eventually by living on his own in any case.

“Do you promise I’ll be safe? Will you _really_ protect me?”

“I have a poisonous sting and fire-breath. And if all else fails, sharp teeth and claws. Yes, I will protect you with everything I have.”

-Keeper-

Bolt looked as if he was deep in thought. _I’d certainly be considering this carefully if I were in his position,_ he thought.

“Well, (Sigh) I’ve seen almost everything there is to see in Pyrrhia anyway. It’s a deal. I’ll come with you.”

“Very well.” He lowered his back to Bolt. “Climb on my back and I’ll fly you to my home.”

Bolt clambered up Keeper’s shoulders onto his back. He had never had a scavenger ride him before, and he presumed Bolt had never ridden a dragon before either. This was going to be a learning experience for the both of them. He felt the little guy settle down on top of him, and he spread his wings and took off through the treetops. Judging by the way Bolt tensely clung to his neck, he could tell he was nervous about falling off. Considering he had fallen out of the sky once before just minutes ago, he could understand why he would feel that way.

“So where _do_ you live?” Bolt asked Keeper.

“At the edge of the desert, in a town we call Possibility.”

“What kind of dragons live there?”

“Mostly SandWings like me, and SkyWings.”

“What are SkyWings?”

“They’re the same type of dragon we had to escape from earlier.”

“Mountain Dragons!? So basically half the town is going to want to eat me!”

“The SkyWings who chased us weren’t from Possibility! As long as you’re with me they won’t threaten you!”

“Then let’s just say I’m going to be sticking to you like glue!”

The two of them flew for some time before coming across the town. It took a little longer than usual because Keeper was being careful about not making any aerial maneuvers that would cause Bolt to lose his grip. Possibility gleamed in the afternoon sun, and Keeper landed softly in the town square. Almost immediately the presence of Bolt began to turn heads. Both of them heard whispers (Though to Bolt the whispers were much louder on account of his sensitive ears) along the lines of “Is that a scavenger?” And “Is he going to eat that thing?”

Keeper ignored the onlookers and proceeded down the street towards the bridge, drawing curious looks the entire way there. When they reached the other side of the bridge, a similar scene occurred where the SandWings stared at Bolt riding on Keeper’s back.

“Aww, that’s so cute!” A female dragon cooed, “He’s giving his little pet scavvie a ride!”

Keeper felt Bolt’s paws tense up and dig into his neck. Apparently Bolt did _not_ like being called a “pet.” Noted. Soon he made it to his shop and he unlocked the front door.

-Bolt-

Dragons were _everywhere._ He had never been so afraid. _Why did I agree to this again!?_ He thought, _I’ll give myself three days, tops, before I’m scarfed down._ Underneath him he could feel Keeper’s powerful musculature at work as he strolled towards an enormous bridge in the center of the dragons’ town. He heard the background dragons’ comments about the two of them as they walked through the square. It seemed the dragons were whispering, but since dragons were so freaking _loud_ he could hear everything. ( _That could come in handy later, if I need to do some spying_ , thought Bolt)

After crossing the bridge, a medium-sized dragon, a female according to her mental voice, made a strange noise that translated to “Aww, that’s so cute! He’s giving his little pet scavvie a ride!”

_OK, that’s IT. I am NOT anyone’s PET._ He thought about admonishing her but he held his tongue; he didn’t want to cause a scene by revealing his communication ability just out of the blue. Keeper had taken the news well, but he wasn’t sure how other dragons would react to a “talking” human.

Keeper approached a small (But to Bolt, it was huge) building, and reached his front leg up to his neck, his claws narrowly missing Bolt as he pulled a key off of his neck and used it to unlock the door, where he walked in. The dragon crouched down, and taking the hint, Bolt dismounted Keeper and stood on the floor in a building that was far larger than he was.

_So this is how a mouse feels in a human house_ , Bolt thought, _So very small…_

“Make yourself a nest or whatever you call it over here,” Keeper said, and pointed to a door to the left. Keeper opened the door and breathed a little fire onto a torch inside the room, lighting the place up. Inside appeared to be a storeroom, with shelves stacked up towards the ceiling. Bolt decided he wanted to sleep on one of the middle shelves, which were at a dragon’s head height and he wouldn’t be at risk of being stepped on in his sleep up there. Except he had no way of getting up there. Then Bolt eyed a bunch of wood scraps lying on the ground.

Bolt held the distinction of being one of the handiest humans in the entire continent of Pyrrhia. He had made money before for his crafts, ranging from beds to elegant portrait frames to his bow, which he had made when he was ten and the bow had not so much as cracked for the six years afterward. If it was made of wood, then he could shape it to his will. Already the gears were turning in his head, and within his mind’s eye, the wood scraps flew around the room and assembled themselves into a ladder, leading upwards to his new bedroom, complete with a dresser and a real bed.

_A real bed…_ Bolt dreamed, _I could sleep on a real bed again like I did when I was five…_

“Bolt, you okay?”

Bolt snapped out of his trance and looked up at Keeper, who looked at him with concern.

“Just visualizing how I want my sleeping area to look. Is it OK if I use those wood pieces in the corner?”

“Those things? That’s just junk. Use it for whatever you want.”

-Keeper-

The little human’s eyes began to sparkle like they had little stars in them. Clearly Bolt had some idea of what he was going to do with the junk wood. One thing he definitely knew about scavengers was their prowess for making things with their paws. Was he going to get to see this ability at work? Evidently so, for the human produced multiple tools and a box of miniature nails out of his bag, and then he jogged over to the pile of wood and carried as much of it as he could over to his work area, where he began to nail them together at perpendicular angles.

What Bolt was building was evidently some sort of climbing contraption. _Oh, I get it!_ Keeper realized, _He’s building something he can use to climb to a higher shelf! How clever!_ Clearly Bolt was very skilled, as the climbing-thing quickly took shape, Bolt’s paws and tools flying around with speed.

“Those paws of yours must be very versatile,” Keeper remarked.

Bolt stopped working on his project and looked up at him. “They aren’t called ‘paws,’” He said, “We call them ‘hands.’”

“Hands?”

Bolt put down his hammer and pointed to various parts of his paw. “This is a ‘finger,’ this is my ‘thumb,’ and this is my ‘palm.’ Together they make a hand. They’re distinct from paws because they’re not used for walking; they’re used for grabbing things, manipulating objects, making things, all sorts of stuff!”

“Just like our talons, except without claws, and you don’t walk on them.”

“Basically.”

Bolt went back to work. Keeper left him to finish his nest and took a glance around his store. On the wall was an art piece he had come by. It depicted a gigantic white bird-shaped… Thing surrounded by the silhouettes of scavengers and dragons. The dragon who had sold the painting to him (Back when he was better off financially) told him the “bird” wasn’t actually a bird at all, but a massive flying city populated and controlled exclusively by scavengers.

He thought the artist was a little loony at the time, thinking scavengers could build something like that and fly it around. But now that he had met Bolt… Let’s just say he had a higher opinion of scavengers’ capabilities now. “Bolt?” Called Keeper, “Come here. There’s something I want to show you.”

With a barely audible pitter-patter of tiny feet came Bolt. “What is it?” He asked.

“Take a look at this painting,” Keeper said, “Is anything about it familiar to you?”

-Bolt-

Bolt looked long and hard at the painting. He had obviously never seen anything like it… But something deep inside of him stirred… Maybe a long-buried memory from his childhood. It was there… But he couldn’t quite grasp it.

_Go to the star, child!_ His mother’s words just before her death echoed in his head.

“What exactly am I looking at?” Bolt asked.

“It’s a painting of the Lost Flying City of the Scavengers. It’s a little-known legend among dragons. I thought you humans would have a similar story.”

“Nope. We’ve got nothing like that. Otherwise I think we’d be flying around in it all day and not just be hiding from dragons on the ground.”

-Keeper-

Bolt’s answer was somewhat unsatisfactory given his facial expression while he was looking at the art. He _had_ seen something there, he definitely remembered something. _Perhaps he’s trying to protect the secret of the flying city?_ He asked within himself. But Bolt didn’t seem like a person who would lie to him. He decided to change the subject.

“Bolt, how come you don’t live with other humans? What happened to you that you ended up denless, alone?”

Bolt went rock-stiff and Keeper could tell he had hit a _very_ sensitive nerve.

“It’s fine, you don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Said Keeper reassuringly.

Bolt’s eyes began to glisten, and his mouth underneath his facial covering let out staccato squeaks as his chest twitched. _He’s… Crying._ Keeper figured out, _Scavengers can cry just like us._ Then he realized all the things dragons did, and were still doing, to humans like him, and he made the connection without Bolt even having to explain it to him.

_Bolt is the Denless Scavenger… Because dragons destroyed his den…_

Keeper could only imagine the endless pit of loneliness poor Bolt must have been suffering in, for longer than Keeper himself had been alive. Bolt had fallen to his knees and was violently sobbing, his face buried in his “hands.” _What he needs is another human_ _comforting him_ _…_ Keeper thought, _But I will have to do._

“Bolt?” The human looked up at him, his eyes full of brokenhearted despair. Keeper nudged his snout against Bolt’s tear-streaked face, “Hey, it’s OK, you’re safe here. Do you want to talk about it? I’ll listen with everything I have.”

Continuing to cry, Bolt wrapped his arms around Keeper’s face, his tiny tears now pooling on the scales of his nose. “I-I’ll tell you…” He choked out between sobs, “I’ll t-tell you my story…” His eyes looked up at his, now hauntingly empty...

“Of how my parents died.”


	4. Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An origin story of sorts, in this chapter we're going to look at where the story really began, the day dragons killed five-year-old Bolt's parents. This is the root of Bolt's trauma, memories of the worst day of the little scavenger's life. There's no explicit gore, but people will die in this chapter, and poor Bolt's going to be VERY upset about it.

Chapter Four: Death

The Worst Day of Bolt’s Life began so fast that five-year-old Bolt didn’t have time to go get his rabbit plush from his bed. Somehow getting past the early-warning lookouts, three red dragons swooped down out of the sky towards their small village. Right away they began shooting flames out of their mouths, setting Bolt’s friend’s hut ablaze with his friend’s parents still inside. One of them landed on top of the well, crushing it beneath its talons like it was made out of clay.

“Get everyone to the shelter!” His uncle roared, and with that, Bolt was whisked away by his mother towards the steel hatch covered with leaves that he had practiced hiding in so many times.

Out of the storehouse hut came his father, holding a strange metal thing he had never seen before in his hands. Dad pressed a button on the side of the thing and it made a funny noise and parts of it moved around, and a little tube popped out of the end. _Is daddy going to fight dragons with that thingy?_ He thought, _It doesn’t look like it would hurt_ _them_ _._

He saw his father fearlessly stare one of the dragons right in the eye and he pointed the weird tube at the scary dragon. With a loud _CRACK_ a searing beam of white light came out of the tube and shot faster than Bolt could look at the creature. The light hit the dragon right in the chest, and to Bolt’s surprise, it left a smoldering hole where it hit. The dragon, though, didn’t die, and it gave an earth-shaking roar and, before his father could get the light-thingy to shoot again, the dragon let loose a wave of flame at him. Seemingly in slow motion, Bolt saw his daddy look back at him, his eyes strangely calm despite his impending death.

Then the flames engulfed Bolt’s father and he was never seen again.

“DADDY!!!!” Screamed Bolt, fighting against his mother’s hold, trying to run out there and see he was okay, dragons be damned.

His mother was equally upset at what had just happened, but she was running fully on maternal instinct; Bolt’s safety was foremost in her mind. She shoved Bolt down the hole and was about to go down herself when a dragon grabbed her in its talons and ripped her out of the shelter entrance.

“NOO!!!!” Bolt yelled.

His mother fought in the dragon’s grip, but it was no good. She took one last look at her son, and shouted words at the top of her lungs that Bolt would never forget.

“Bolt! Close that hatch NOW!! When all this blows over…”

“ _Go to the Star, child!!!”_

_CHOMP._

Bolt saw the dragon bite down on his mother’s head with his own eyes. A horrified gasp escaped his lips as his hands flew to his mouth, trying desperately not to scream so the dragon would hear him.

_Not mommy too!_

The dragon swallowed what remained of his mom whole, then turned its gaze to little Bolt, who broke himself out of his paralyzing fear and, with all his strength, slammed the solid steel safety hatch over his head and shoved the thick deadbolt into place, sealing the vault, which, as far as he could tell in the darkness, only contained him.

…………………………………………………..BOOM

…………………………………………………..BOOM

…………………………………………………..BOOM

For what felt like forever Bolt sat crouched, hugging his knees and bawling his eyes out with a potent mixture of fear and sorrow, in the corner as the dragons savagely attacked the hatch above his head.

_Why won’t they just go away!?_ Thought Bolt as his young mind swam with emotional chaos, _They already ate everyone else, how can they still be hungry!?_

His parents were gone. His friends were too. He had no home anymore. So… Provided he even survived the ongoing assault… What was he going to do?

………………………………………………………..

………………………………………………………..

It took another hour for the dragons to finally give up on catching and eating Bolt, and he could hear their wings flapping as they took off. Bolt waited in his crouched position for another half an hour, not wanting to leave his only safe place, since for all Bolt knew the wing flaps were just a ruse to get him to come out so they could gobble him up.

He popped his head out of the hatch. Thankfully, the dragons really were gone. However, his hometown was devastated. None of the huts were left standing. He shakily crawled out of the shelter, still wary of the dragons coming back, but also overwhelmed with sadness.

“H-hello?” Bolt called out, “Anyone here?”

No one responded. Everything was dead silent. Even the pretty birds who always sang to Bolt’s delight around this time of day were gone. The young boy had never felt so alone. He came across a blackened spot where his father had stood defending himself and his friends from the dragons not too long ago. There was no burnt corpse left behind, which made Bolt feel sick. _They ate him too…_ He shivered, and then noticed the weird metal thing his dad had used against the dragon. Parts of it were melted, and it threw a spark when he picked it up. Engraved on the side was a strange word. He had only just learned to read, so he spelled out the letters slowly as he tried to understand what the writing said.

“P-U-L-S-A-R…” He spelled, “Pull… Sar…? What’s a Pulsar?” _Apparently a dragon-killing machine,_ he continued in his head, _Except it didn’t work on this dragon, and now daddy’s dead…_ A tear fell from his eye as he thought this.

Bolt trudged through the ashes where his hut used to stand. Everything was reduced to ashes… Except for something Bolt found lying on the ground. He approached the object, and he picked it up. It was his father’s old scarf, covered in ashes, but not burned at all. It had survived by burying itself, just like little Bolt had.

That was when Bolt’s overwhelming emotions crashed over him again, and Bolt fell to his knees, hugging the scarf to his face with all his strength, scream-crying into the fabric. His mommy… His daddy… Everyone he had ever known and loved was gone, and no one was left to take care of him.

He sat there crying, not even caring if a dragon swooped down and ate him, for a whole hour. When there were no tears left to cry, he slowly stood up, shook the ashes off of the scarf, and wrapped the cloth around his neck… Then his face. The scarf was so long that what was left over trailed all the way down to the ground behind him. It was a little difficult to breathe with the scarf covering his mouth, but he would get used to it. This is how he would look now.

He vowed to himself with all his heart that this scarf, the last piece of his family he had left… Would never leave his neck. He gazed upon the horizon. He was alone now, and now he had a job to do. He was going to survive. He was going to stick it to those stupid dragons by overcoming _every_ challenge that came his way. He would make his mother proud by going to this “star” and he would look down at the world, at those big scaly monsters, and laugh at how little they looked from that far up.

And that’s when he saw the box.

A big steel box, practically screaming “I have useful stuff inside,” lay on the ground in the ashes of the storehouse. He walked up to it. The safe was bigger than he was, and had a beefy-looking lock on it. The lock was already open, though, leading Bolt to think this must have been where the “Pulsar” came from, and his dad must have left the safe open in his rush to get out there and kill the dragons attacking his village. All the better for him. He opened the box and peered inside.

Inside the box were a multitude of strange things. Another Pulsar, though this one was huge, and too bulky for Bolt to take with him even if he knew how to use it, so he left it be. _Maybe when I’m older,_ he said within himself. He also found a shiny metal tube, which Bolt removed from its rack, and he pressed his thumb on a switch on the side while pointing the shiny end at his face. A blinding light washed out his eyes, causing Bolt to cry out and drop the device, where it pooled whiteness on the ground at his feet. He waited for his vision to recover, and then picked the light back up. _Definitely keeping this,_ Bolt thought, and he clicked the device off and stuffed it into a canvas sack he found at the bottom of the safe, which was filled with…

“Gold!” Shouted Bolt, “I’m rich!” Then Bolt got a hold of himself, and he made another big promise to himself. “Only for emergencies,” He assured himself, and he continued to look through the locker. There was another sack of gold, which Bolt couldn’t carry on account of his weak five-year-old body, and he left them be. He found a spare key to the safe, which Bolt figured would be a stupid place to keep a spare key, but at least he had a key to this safe now.

Bolt also found a strange device he had actually seen before; his father’s “compass.” He knew it would be an invaluable tool for finding his way around the world, so he stowed it in his pocket. He would have to get a map too.

Then he found a weapon that would be perfect for a beginning survivalist like himself. A long-ish stainless steel knife, serrated on one edge, complete with a sheath he could clip to his pants. He held the weapon in his little hands. It was a little heavy, since it was made for a bigger human than he was, but he could still easily hold it. He swung it around in the air like he had seen his now-dead teenage cousin do a couple months ago with his own knife. It made little swishing sounds as the well-tuned blade sliced through the air. It looked sharp enough that Bolt bet it would even stab through dragon scales, though Bolt wouldn’t be stupid enough to run up to a dragon with only a short knife for defense. He attached the sheath to his waistband, and then slid the blade into it.

…………………………………………..

Bolt spent the night in the dragon shelter, not feeling safe anywhere else. He slept on the floor, wracked with terrible nightmare reenactments of the previous day, only this time the dragons were scarier; they had flaming claws, acidic teeth, and they shredded his friends and family to pieces before finding Bolt cowering in his shelter and swallowed him whole. He would wake up screaming, only to be too exhausted to stay awake and he would fall right back into darkness to be eaten all over again. All night he suffered, until he finally saw morning light through a tiny gap in the hatch and he shook himself awake to take on the day, still reeling from his multiple dream-deaths.

His stomach rumbled, and he knew he’d have to find food. All the village’s reserves were burnt up in the dragon attack, which meant he’d have to find more. He attached his knife to his pants, though he knew he wouldn’t be skilled enough to kill an animal with it just yet. He’d have to settle for stuff he wouldn’t have to hunt; fruit and berries. He crawled out of the vault and left the village ruins to wander the woods.

-Three hours later-

Bolt returned, thankfully finding a bounty of strawberries as big as both his hands put together in the forest. He chowed down on the fruit until he was full, then set out again to get more berries to build a stockpile. But before he could leave the village, he heard an unmistakable _w_ _h_ _oosh_ in the air, and his heart stopped when he saw one of the same dragons from yesterday approaching him. Dropping everything, he sprinted at full speed for the dragon shelter, and jumped straight down into it before slamming the hatch shut.

Fortunately, it didn’t seem that the dragon saw him, and instead of attacking the shelter again, it just stomped around for an hour before taking off again. Bolt waited half an hour just like before, exited the vault, and began to think.

“I can’t stay here,” Bolt confirmed to himself, “The dragons know I live here; they’ll just keep coming back until they catch me. I have to leave.”

_But where would I live?_ Bolt thought, _Where can I go? This village was completely cut off from other settlements, no one here knows anyone from other places. I don’t have relatives anywhere else._ He mulled over his options until it came down to just one. _I’m going to become a “nomad.”_ (A word he had learned just two days ago from his uncle, the town’s teacher) _I’ll camp for the rest of my life. The dragons can’t catch me if I’m always moving._

With that, young Bolt gathered all his supplies; his knife, a small amount of his gold, and he left his former childhood home to explore the world beyond Outpost Village. He decided his destination would be the first human settlement he could find; he could buy a tent and other camping supplies from a shop. A little boy like him wasn’t ready to be completely independent, but the dragons had forced his hand. He was going to survive in this world even if it killed him.

“My name is Bolt the Enduring, Sole Survivor of Outpost Village,” Bolt began to chant to himself to boost his spirits, “And I’m going to keep on living no matter what.”

…………………………………………………………

-Present-Day Bolt-

“And that’s my story,” Bolt said, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Oh my goodness,” Said Keeper, “Bolt, I’m so sorry! I didn’t know your past was that terrible...”

“Don’t be,” Replied Bolt, “It wasn’t your fault. I’m not angry at all dragons for what those three did. My parents raised me to be reasonable. But if I ever _do_ see those dragons again…”

-Keeper-

Bolt’s eyes briefly shone with a murderous glare. Keeper could tell that Bolt was holding a _serious_ grudge against the dragons that killed his loved ones. But since he was a scavenger, there wasn’t much the little guy could do to get revenge, though Keeper bet that Bolt had no doubt visualized numerous fantasies in his little head about him emerging victorious from a blood-bath, oftentimes involving Bolt wielding a comically oversized sword or some other outlandish weapon against the unfortunate dragons who _dared_ to ruin his life. It’s what Keeper would do if he were a scavenger and lost loved ones to dragons.

“Anyway… Can I get you some food?” Keeper asked Bolt.


	5. Companionship

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this chapter while listening to the old meme song, "The Bagel Song." (The one with Luigi)
> 
> That aside, in this chapter the fun really begins. After an accident reveals Bolt's ability to talk to dragons to the entire town, it causes a storm of attention towards the young scavenger, and soon a familiar face (or two) shows up to meet Bolt for himself.
> 
> Also, just in case I accidentally used the name of someone else's OC in my story, please know that any similarity to any other dragons in other AUs is entirely unintentional. I apologize in advance if any names are already taken.

Chapter Five: Companionship

-Bolt-

“Anyway… Can I get you some food?” Keeper asked Bolt.

“What do you have?” Bolt asked in return.

“Well, I have… Uh-oh, I completely forgot to restock my cupboard! I’ll have to go get some more food.”

“Besides human settlements, where do dragons get their food?”

It took a couple seconds for Keeper to get what Bolt was saying.

“Not all of us _like_ to eat scavengers, Bolt. Many of us are quite fond of you. A lot of dragons don’t even eat meat at all!”

“What do you eat?”

“These days, what I can afford. Yesterday’s kills, fruits, vegetables. Occasionally I’ll go hunting, but it’s not something I’m exceptional at. Anyway, I’m off to the market stand.”

“Can I come with you?”

“Why?”

“Two reasons: don’t ask me why, but I feel safer around you than I am when I’m alone… For some reason. Second, I don’t want to stay cooped up in your house; I want to get the lay of the land, to get a feel of the town!”

(Sigh) “I’ll give you a little tour then. Hop on my back. And try to sound like a normal scavenger when we’re in public.”

“What does a ‘normal’ human sound like to you?”

“Squeaks, yibble-yibbles, kinda like a cross between a mouse and a monkey.”

“I’ll try not to take that as an insult.”

Bolt climbed back onto Keeper’s back, and he strode out the door into Possibility's streets. Once again, all eyes were on Bolt. No one was whispering or cooing this time, though. But thankfully none of them seemed to be looking at Bolt hungrily, most of them seemed curious.

Keeper went down the road until he came across a stand loaded down with food; animal carcasses, fruits big enough to be a meal all on their own for Bolt, and similarly sized veggies. The meat looked a little past its prime, but the plants had Bolt salivating. He could make a wonderful stew out of the peppers and tomatoes he saw on the shelves.

Bolt tried to point at the food he wanted, but Keeper was too focused on the meat hanging on hooks. While Bolt liked eating meat just as much as a dragon would, he knew all too well that he couldn’t survive solely on animals. Taking a little risk, Bolt dismounted Keeper and jogged in front of him, pointing at the fruit again. This time he saw him, and so did the dragon tending the stall.

“Wow, when did you get a pet scavenger?” The owner asked, “I love its little facial covering, it makes it look so mysterious! Did you make it for the little guy?”

“No, he came with it already on. I tried taking it off of him, but it made him so livid I decided it wasn’t worth it.”

_I hope Keeper hasn’t forgotten I can understand everything everyone’s saying,_ thought Bolt, slightly annoyed.

“Well,” the shopkeeper said, “It seems it wants some fruit here. Little scavvie really knows what it wants.”

Bolt had had it up to _here_ with being addressed as an “it,” but he managed to restrain himself. When he looked up at Keeper, who was thankfully picking up some of the food he pointed out, he noticed a hint of tension on the dragon’s face. He was no mind reader, but it seemed that Keeper was struggling not to directly talk to Bolt, since most “scavvies” weren’t capable of understanding dragons.

Suddenly, the ground at Bolt’s feet shook, and he heard a cacophony of roars coming from the town square down the street. Keeper remained focused on his transaction, but Bolt’s insatiable human curiosity took him over, and he peeled away from his friend to go see what the commotion was about.

“GIVE ME BACK MY NECKLACE!!”

“ _YOUR_ necklace!? I bought it off of Ghibli fair and square!”

“Ghibli STOLE it, you pile of scavenger droppings!!”

Bolt walked cautiously along the wall of a house, hoping that the dragons would be too focused on the fight to notice someone as small as him sneaking a look. His instincts were screaming at him to turn around and run back to Keeper, but he knew that he had passed the precipice now; if he made too many movements, the dragons would notice him for sure. _Stupid old me…_ He thought.

The dragons were wrestling on the ground now, sending tremors across the ground that made Bolt’s chest vibrate. Bolt was keeping a safe distance from the brawling SandWings, who thankfully weren’t far enough gone that they were resorting to more lethal tactics like their poison stings or flame-breath. About five other SandWings and a SkyWing watched in a loose circle. Bolt kept a close eye on each dragon in turn.

And that was when a burly SandWing on the other side of the fight turned his head and his gaze locked squarely on Bolt’s face.

_Uh oh._

“Hey, look, it’s a scavenger!” He shouted. Instantly the audience's attention was diverted, and even the two fighting SandWings stopped wrestling and looked at Bolt.

“Isn’t that Keeper’s pet? What’s it doing alone out here?” Said the female dragon who had swooned over Bolt on his way into the town.

A scrawny-looking SandWing who looked like she hadn’t eaten in weeks began to stalk the boy, and her tongue lolled hungrily out of her mouth. “It’s alone, so that makes it fair game,” She said, and Bolt’s heart dropped into his stomach.

_No! Not like this!_ Thought a panicking Bolt. He was completely defenseless; his bow and knife were sitting in his bag back in Keeper’s house. Once he had fought off a hungry wild dog with just his fists, but punches wouldn’t do anything against a predator this big. He nervously began to walk backwards towards the market stand.

“Don’t eat it, Sienna! Keeper just got the poor thing, he’d throw a fit if the scavvie were killed this fast!”

_Yeah, listen to your friend, Sienna,_ Thought Bolt.

But the SandWing was too hungry to care. She came within grabbing distance of Bolt and ripped him off the ground, her claws almost piercing his jacket. Bolt’s panic reached a fever pitch… And he then realized he had one thing left in his playbook to try. As Sienna raised Bolt to her mouth, Bolt opened his own mouth and screamed:

“STOP IT!!!”

Well, that had its desired effect. Everyone went silent as Bolt’s shout echoed inside their heads.

Every dragon in the vicinity, including Sienna, immediately stopped in their tracks, staring, open-mouthed, at the young human. But was this the right move to make?

“Uhh… I mean, squeak?”

However, whatever gave Bolt his ability to talk to dragons kicked in, and the word “squeak” was translated literally into the Dragon word for “squeak” inside the heads of all dragons in the square.

“The scavenger talks…” Breathed one of the SandWings.

Unfortunately, once again, Sienna was too hungry to care about anything else, and she shook herself out of her shock and popped a horrified Bolt into her mouth. Her teeth came within inches of impaling him when something HUGE collided with Sienna with immense force, knocking the boy right out of her maw and sending him flying into a wall.

-Keeper-

“Say, where’s your scavvie?” The shopkeeper asked.

“What are you talking about; he’s right her--” Keeper realized Bolt was nowhere to be found. “Oh no. Bolt!?” He frantically looked around. That’s when he heard the sounds of a commotion back in the town square, and he went cold with dread. “BOLT!!” He sprinted for the square.

Keeper arrived in the town square just in time to see his little friend get dropped into Sienna’s mouth, and rage built up inside of him. _Don’t you DARE,_ went Keeper inside his head, and he bent his head down and charged the scrawny SandWing at full speed. He rammed her shoulder, knocking her over and sending Bolt flying out of her mouth. The human hit a wall with speed, and for a heart-stopping moment, it looked like the impact had killed him, but then he saw Bolt shivering with traumatic fright, the poor guy had come so close to death that it had left him trembling. He ran up to his friend and picked him up in his talons. His skin and clothing were soaked in saliva.

“Bolt! Are you okay!?”

Bolt began to pat parts of his body with his hands and, still trembling and wide-eyed, he sighed with relief. “I-I’m still in one piece,” he said, as if he didn’t quite believe yet that he was still alive.

“OK, I _know_ I didn’t imagine that,” said one of the SandWings who had been fighting minutes ago, “That scavenger _talked_ into my _head!_ ”

“Uh-oh,” Keeper said. He turned to the crowd. “Uh, guys, it’s ok, I don’t think he can read your mind or anything, he’s--”

The crowd erupted into uplifting cheer.

“Oh my goodness, that’s so cool!”

“I want to hold him!”

“I have _so_ many questions for it!”

The crowd began to close in on Keeper and Bolt, causing the both of them to become nervous.

“I guess the secret’s out,” Bolt said.

“Indeed it is,” Replied Keeper.

  
  


-Two days later-

Keeper entered the chamber Bolt had made his home in. It took a few seconds to find him. To the dragon’s surprise, some of Bolt’s coverings were missing. He found the cloth pieces inside one of his old cups big enough that the little scavvie could step inside and bathe in it, which had been filled with soapy water, so he presumed Bolt was cleaning his covers. He had never seen what a scavenger looked like underneath their "clothes."

His fur-less torso was packed with muscle, he could see his little rib cage poking out beneath his skin, and he had a tiny bump on the middle of his belly. His legs were covered in a barely visible, thin layer of fur matching the gold on his head. The only coverings he had left on were his facial covering, ( _Does he EVER take that off?_ ) and a shorter version of his bottom covering that left the lower portions of his legs exposed, which Keeper presumed Bolt wore underneath his normal clothing.

Keeper also noticed that under his “scarf,” Bolt’s cheeks were rapidly turning pink and the scavenger took on a stance that indicated he was very upset.

  
  


“Get out,” Said Bolt flatly.

  
  


Not wanting to start a conflict with his friend, Keeper promptly left the room.

  
  


“Note to self,” Keeper mentioned to himself, “Scavengers HATE being seen without all their coverings.”

A few minutes later, Bolt emerged from the storeroom, with his legs covered by a different piece of clothing that must have come out of his bag, but still missing his top covering. Suddenly, his ladder fell to the ground, and the clattering sound it made caused the human to turn around in surprise. That’s when Keeper saw that Bolt had a long, thick scar running diagonally across the indentation his inward-curving spine sat in, causing Keeper to quietly gasp.

Bolt heard that, and he faced Keeper, wondering what made him react like that, then he looked behind his back, thinking there was something scary behind him, but nothing was there. He stood there awkwardly until he realized it was _him_ he was gasping at.

“What’s going on? Is something wrong with my body?”

“You have a really bad scar on your back. Did a dragon do that?”

“Oh, this?” He said, reaching behind his back and feeling his scar, a contortion that amazed Keeper. “That wasn’t caused by a dragon, actually. I got into a scrape with a grizzly bear when I was thirteen. Barely escaped alive.”

“For such a fragile creature as yourself, you sure do have an uncanny knack for surviving injuries.”

“What can I say? I’m tougher than I look. Although _that_ time I got lucky. There was a dragon that flew low above us that scared it off before it could kill me. I was bleeding pretty badly, but I managed to turn my shirt into a bandage so I wouldn’t lose too much blood.”

“I guess that’s a really useful function of your coverings. Re-configuring them into wound dressings would be a real life-saver.”

“It pays to be crafty. Anyway, I’m going to go make some food.” Bolt gathered his cooking pot and some wood and began to walk out through the open shop door.

Outside, Bolt set up his cooking apparatus and took some ingredients out of a bag.

-Fen the MudWing-

“Hey, what you making there, scavvie?” A MudWing named Fen approached Bolt as he was cooking. He was working with tiny strips of beef as well as cuts of various vegetables. He had heard the rumors about this particular scavenger who could communicate with dragons.

“Food,” Bolt replied, much to the MudWing’s amazement. “We humans like to mix different flavors together for a better eating experience. You should try it sometime, it’s really amazing.”

The MudWing eyed a bright-red vegetable Bolt had yet to slice, shaped like a claw. “Hey, can I eat that?”

“Depends. Are your insides fireproof?”

“Umm…”

“Try it if you dare.”

-Bolt-

The MudWing took a bite out of the vegetable, and his face immediately went rigid. Bolt, sensing what was about to happen, scurried away into the shop. Soon, the MudWing let out a pained roar and shot fire out of his mouth. Inside the shop, Keeper heard the commotion and found Bolt looking nervously at him.

“What happened?” Keeper asked, “Did a dragon try to eat you again?

“No, I’m not the one he was interested in eating.”

“Then why is a dragon roaring outside?”

“I may have fed him a chili pepper.”

“I REGRET THIS SO MUCH!!” The MudWing roared.

“Is there an antidote!?” Keeper asked Bolt.

“I’ve been told milk can neutralize the heat, but only mammals like me can drink milk!”

“Dragons can drink milk!”

“What!? That makes no sense!”

“We’ll talk about dragon biology later!” Keeper grabbed a bottle of milk he thankfully ordered that morning and ran outside.

The MudWing was still spitting fire. “Fen, drink this!” Keeper shouted. He threw the bottle at the roaring Mudwing, and Fen opened the bottle and drank it. Right away he cooled off, and he sighed with relief. Bolt nervously popped out of the shop.

“Sorry,” Bolt apologized, “I shouldn’t have let you eat that.”

“No hard feelings,” Fen said, “Though I must say you scavengers must have steel stomachs to be able to handle something like that! See you later!” Fen walked off.

Several minutes later, Bolt’s stew was finished, and he happily ate on a bench he had built just outside the door. Keeper approached him with a letter in his hand. ( _Or “talons,” as they call them,_ Bolt corrected himself.)

“Winter is coming,” Keeper said.  
  
“Why do I have a sudden stark feeling that I should be prepared to fight the undead?”  
  
“That doesn't make any sense. Winter is an IceWing, not a zombie.”  
  
“Don't know. Just one of those weird feelings. Who is this ‘Winter’ guy anyway?”

“He’s an IceWing who studies humans. He’s really fond of scavengers, practically obsessed with you people. He flipped when he heard about you, and now he wants to meet you personally!”

“This should be interesting. When’s he coming?”

“This afternoon.”

-That Afternoon-

Bolt was laying his clothes out to dry outside when a _whoosh_ almost blew his clothing out of his hands. He turned around and saw a big Ice Dragon ( _IceWing_ ) standing there. Upon making eye contact, the dragon’s eyes went wide. _This must be Winter,_ Bolt thought, and Winter dashed up to him, his footfalls making the ground shake. _Keeper wasn’t kidding, this guy’s really excited to see me._

“So, can you?” Winter asked.

With a healthy dose of presumption, Bolt spoke: “Can I speak with you? Yes.”

He saw Winter nearly fall over in surprise. Keeper came out of the house and saw the two of them together, Winter’s eyes bugging out and Bolt looking somewhat nervous, as if he was wondering if the IceWing was going to be okay. Winter turned to Keeper.

“Where did you find him?”

“He was on top of a mountain.”

“Are there any more like him? Where is his den?”

“He doesn’t have one. He lived alone.”

Winter got closer and began to inspect Bolt scientifically.

“Look at his fur! Such a lustrous gold color! And his skin is so… Pink! I’ve never seen a specimen like this!”

“I can understand what you’re saying, you know!” Bolt said, “I’m not your ‘specimen!’ I have feelings!”

“This is such a breakthrough! A talking scavenger! But how is he speaking right into my head!?” He suddenly tenses up. “You can’t read my thoughts, can you?”

“Nope. Only time I can hear you is when you’re speaking. As for _how,_ I don’t know.”

Suddenly, another dragon, a SandWing, swooped down next to Winter. Winter didn’t look too happy to see him.

“Qibli, what are you doing here!?”

Qibli looked at Bolt. “Aww, it’s so cute! Can I pet it?”

Bolt’s eyes narrowed, and a slight red tinge entered his skin. “Excuse me!? I am an intelligent, free-willed being that can think _circles_ around you! ...That being said, I do like back rubs.”

Qibli jumped back in surprise. “Holy flying salamanders, it _talks!”_

Bolt sighed. “For your information, we _all_ talk. All those squeaks and yibbles you hear from any other ‘scavenger’ are just your perception of a _very_ elegant language. You dragons don’t listen closely enough to hear it. To be fair, we don’t listen either. Your language just sounds like a bunch of roars and growls to us.”

“Oh my goodness, this is _amazing!”_ Qibli exclaimed.

“That’s what I was going to say,” Winter said, “I could advance our understanding of scavengers by decades if I could _communicate_ with one!”

“Why don’t we come inside?” Keeper suggested.

“Great idea!” Said Qibli.

\--------------------------------

-Qibli-

“So what’s your life like, scavenger?” Qibli asked.

“First of all, we call ourselves humans, not scavengers. Second, my name is Bolt.”

“Okay, Bolt. So where did you live before here?”

Bolt’s expression became sullen, and he looked sadly down at the ground before replying. “Nowhere. I lived nowhere. My whole village was killed by dragons when I was really young. I kept moving around for eleven years until I met Keeper a couple days ago.”

“Oh, that’s so sad!” And Qibli meant it. _No one should have to lose everything, especially at that young of an age,_ he thought.

“What’s that thing you’re covering your face with?” Winter asked, “Can you take it off?”

Bolt stood erect and shook his head. “No. I never take this off. It’s all I have left of my father.”

Once again Qibli cooed about how tragic this was, while Winter also looked a little sad.

“You must have been so lonely,” Said Winter, “Just like Bandit was.”

“Bandit?” Asked Bolt curiously.

“My former pet,” Replied Winter, and Bolt tensed up. “He was always feeling down in his cage, and eventually I let him go.”

“Well I can see why ‘Bandit’ was so depressed,” Bolt said. “You kept him in a _cage!_ ”

“It was for his own safety!” Winter said, “Otherwise he would have been eaten right away!”

Bolt did understand this. It had only taken an hour or so for Bolt to almost get eaten after moving in, apparently humans were quite a delicacy among dragons, the thought of which made Bolt shudder.

“Still though, you could have made an effort to help him feel both safe and not imprisoned. I mean, how would _you_ feel if you were locked in a cage all day? Surprise, that’s how we feel about it too!”

“You see, Qibli, this is what I mean. If we can talk to scavengers, it’ll make helping them so much easier! He could communicate the needs of the scavengers in my sanctuary to us so we can understand what they want!”

“Well, for starters, if this ‘sanctuary’ is anything like your cage, the humans are going to feel like they’re being imprisoned by a bunch of human-eating monsters, and they’re not going to be happy about it. We don’t take well to captivity.”

Qibli’s eyes widened. “Monsters? How are we ‘monsters?’”

“Well try thinking from our point of view. You come swinging out of the sky, kill and eat us by the dozens, and burn our homes to the ground. Yes, most humans see dragons as monsters… And until recently, that included me.”

Qibli looked put down. “Oh… I guess you’re right.” He thought of his grandfather and how he kept a constant supply of captive scavengers who he would torture with a maze and then eat them. _He_ was definitely a monster. “But not all of us are like that! Winter here would never dare hurt a human.”

Winter nodded. “There are many that would rather befriend scav… Humans than kill them. Though unfortunately many times we are pushed to the sidelines, and many of the dragons in power are all too happy to consume helpless humans all the time.”

Then Qibli said, “It probably didn’t help that humans killed the SandWing queen a while back. Now a lot more dragons make a point of burning your villages. Why did you guys do that, anyway?”

“I’m not really the best person to ask for that,” Bolt said, “After all, I only have minimal communication with others of my kind. I did hear from some villagers a couple years ago about someone who killed a dragon for their treasure. To be honest, I didn’t get why. Treasure has no meaning to me.”

“Really now?” Qibli said, genuinely surprised, “But that’s the stereotype all dragons have for you people, you’re supposed to be _obsessed_ with shiny things!”

“Not me. I have much more important things on my mind, like evading predators and finding food. Besides, I’ve got a shiny thing that’s far more unique and valuable than gold!”

“Can we see it?”

“Follow me.”

Winter, Qibli, and Keeper followed Bolt into the storeroom. Winter marveled at the construction Bolt had recently completed, from the ladder to his bed, which he had padded with goose feathers from geese Keeper had bought at the market.

“Did you build all this?” Winter asked.

“Sure did. I mean, the shelves were already there, I built the ladder and my bed.”

Bolt climbed the ladder carefully and reached his shelf, then dug through his old backpack and took out his silver torch. He held it out to the dragons, who squinted to see the tiny device.

“Is this some sort of weapon?” Winter asked.

“Only if you’re really sensitive to light,” Bolt replied, and he turned the end away from the dragons and switched the torch on. A powerful beam of white light shot out and illuminated a circle on the floor. All three dragons stared in wonder at the light.

“It’s kinda like animus magic,” Qibli said, “That’s the only explanation I can come up with, anyway.”

“I wouldn’t exactly call it magic,” Winter said, “I’ve never heard of humans wielding magic, but I’ve definitely seen humans building machines, like the ballista in that one scavenger city. Maybe it’s some sort of machine?”

“That’s what I think too,” Bolt said, “Humans and machines, we just... Go together. It's kinda like our equivalent of animus magic, except unlike animus stuff, ALL of us are born with it, that itch to build some fantastic contraption. None of the people I’ve ever met made anything like this, though."

Bolt’s stomach suddenly grumbled, and he turned off the silver torch and put it away. “I’ve gotta make some food.”

“You just ate a few hours ago!” Keeper said.

“SandWings barely eat at all,” Qibli said, “And I would presume scavengers have much faster metabolisms than dragons do.”

“We’re supposed to eat three times a day,” Bolt said.

“Three times!?” Keeper exclaimed, “I can’t afford to feed you that often!”

Bolt paled when he heard this, but then he got an idea. He took his bow off of his backpack and presented it to the dragons. “You’re forgetting that I’m a first-class hunter among humans. I can just get my own food; all you need to do is release me into the forest and I’ll come back with a ton of food!”

“That’s a good idea,” Qibli said. “Come to think of it, there’s something I’ve always wanted to know. Why do scavengers only like their food after it’s been set on fire?”

“You mean cooking? Well… It’s a long story. When I was younger, I tried eating raw meat because I couldn’t start a fire properly yet and I was getting really desperately hungry… (He shuddered) I ended up getting _really_ sick, and I was suffering in my tent with a terrible fever for two whole days… It was the closest I’d ever come to dying. So it’s not that we _like_ our meat cooked, it’s that we _need_ our meat cooked.”

“Wow, it’s that bad for you?” Qibli said.

“No wonder Bandit wasn’t eating the raw meat I gave him,” Winter said, “It was a matter of life or death.”

“Well, let’s get going,” Bolt said, “I need to catch myself some food.”


	6. Hunting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bolt's hunting trip in the woods is interrupted by another set of familiar faces. But when two humans with similar backgrounds meet, some sparks will fly.
> 
> Spoiler warning for Dragonslayer, if you haven't read it yet. This chapter won't expose the whole book, but some plot details are discussed in this chapter.
> 
> As stated on the main description for the story, those curious about what Bolt's bow, knife, and "silver torch" look like can find a picture of them here: https://www.deviantart.com/jbhughes54enwiler/art/Bolt-s-Tools-843156281

Chapter Six: Hunting

-Keeper-

After bidding Winter and Qibli farewell, with Winter insisting that Keeper bring Bolt to visit Sanctuary soon, Bolt climbed onto Keeper’s back and they flew off towards the woods. Keeper could tell that Bolt was getting used to riding a dragon. Apparently humans were really fast learners.

Keeper landed at the edge of the woods, and Bolt dropped off of him and began to assess his hunting tools. There was the small but elegant wooden bow that Bolt had tried to use against him when they first met, though it seemed that Bolt only had two arrows left. Next Bolt took out a shiny metal claw from a sheath clipped to the covering on his hip. The design of the weapon seemed unusual, with many straight edges and one edge was serrated. It also seemed to be very sharp, so sharp that Keeper wondered if it would be capable of piercing his scales, though the blade was too short; it would be like an insect sting if Bolt decided to attack him with it.

“Well, I’m off,” Bolt said, “I’ll meet you back here.”

“Good luck,” Keeper replied.

-Bolt-

Alone again.

Bolt had spent the majority of his young life relying on no one but himself. So it confused Bolt a little when he felt strange about being on his own in the wilderness again. After all, it had only been two days since Keeper caught him. _Why do I feel so attached to this dragon?_ Bolt thought to himself.

He shook himself out of his thoughts and entered a super-focused state of mind only the finest human hunters had access to. His ears picked up every nuance of his environment; every leaf blowing in the wind, each pawstep in the brush, he could sense _everything_. He honed in on the sound of hooves to the east of him. He stalked forward and hid in a bush, and poked his head out above the shrub. Before him stood a young deer, about as big as he was. A perfect target.

Bolt silently climbed a nearby tree and took his bow off his back, then loaded an arrow. The deer poked its head up, clearly sensing him, and it tensed up, preparing to run. Bolt held his breath to ensure pristine focus and precise aim, and drew the bowstring back, and prepared to let go--

“DON’T HURT HIM!!” A dragon jumped right into his face, causing Bolt to nearly have a heart attack and he reflexively let loose his arrow, and it zinged into the dragon’s paw, where it embedded itself into the soft part of its “finger.” Bolt then proceeded to ungracefully fall out of the tree and he landed hard on the ground. The dragon cried out and also fell, landing near Bolt, who, panting with fear, drew his knife and prepared to fight for his life.

“Owww… You stung meeee!!” The dragon cried, but something was off with the way he was speaking, besides the fact that he sounded like a child, causing Bolt to become confused. _Why aren’t I hearing him in my head?_ That’s when it hit him. _This dragon speaks English!_

“Sky, stop!!” A female human voice shouted from behind the dragon. Out popped a black-haired head, with big brown eyes staring at the strange dragon, then at Bolt. “And as for you, put that knife away!”

“He hurt me!” “Sky” shouted.

“Well of course he did! You scared him!”

Bolt was at the height of confusion. “That dragon speaks my language!”

“He sure does,” the human replied, “Taught him myself!”

Now the dragon looked confused. “Why do I hear the stinging human in my head?”

“What are you talking about, Sky?” She said, “I hear him just fine with my ears.”

“No, the human is talking Dragon in my head!”

“Sky, stop playing around.”

Bolt spoke up. “No, he’s right,” he said, “I have this weird ability to talk with dragons telepathically.”

“Don’t mess with me,” Said the human.

“I’m not lying!”

“He’s not lying!” Sky shouted.

The girl looked at Sky with disbelief, but then she nodded. “Okay, if Sky says he can hear you, then I believe you. What’s your name?”

Bolt stood up and sheathed his knife. “Bolt the Enduring, Sole Survivor of Outpost Village.”

The girl raised an eyebrow.

“Or just ‘Bolt’ for short.”

“I’m Wren,” the girl said, “What’s wrong with your skin and hair?”

Bolt blushed. “I don’t know. Most of the people in my village were like this though.”

“ _Were?_ What happened to them?”

Bolt yet again told his life story.

“Oh,” Wren said, “I see. I had to start living on my own at a young age too, though I had Sky here the whole time, so it wasn’t quite as bad.”

Bolt scoffed. “Lucky. I didn’t get _my_ dragon companion until two days ago.”

“Wait, _you_ have a dragon too!?”

“Yeah. His name’s Keeper. He’s waiting for me to come back with my food, that your _friend_ denied me. Do you have any idea how hungry I’m getting?”

“Hmph,” Sky growled, “No one eats the cute little deer if _I_ can help it.”

“Hey! I need meat to survive just like you do!”

Sky looked offended. “I do _not_ eat meat! I would _never_ hurt the poor little animals!”

Bolt turned to Wren. “Is he serious?”

“He sure is. Sky wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“Well I guess that’s good then. All the SkyWings I’ve ever met try to eat me as soon as they see me.”

“Well you do look pretty tasty,” Sky said jokingly.

Bolt drew his knife and pointed it at Sky threateningly. “That’s NOT funny! I lost my _parents_ to SkyWings!”

“Stop it with the knife!” Wren yelled, “And Sky, he’s right. It’s not funny to joke about eating humans.”

“Sorry,” Sky apologized. Bolt re-sheathed his knife.

“Oh shoot, my bow!” Bolt shouted, and he looked behind him. His bow lay on the ground behind him, thankfully undamaged. He picked it up and looked it over.

“That’s a really pretty bow,” Wren said, “I like all the little carvings on it.”

“Thanks. I made it myself.”

“Nice. Anyway, you said you were looking for food? I know a place nearby filled with berries and fruits. Follow me.”

Inside, Bolt was grumbling about being denied succulent meat, but he didn’t want to get on the bad side of a dragon, no matter how much of a vegetarian he was, so he proceeded to follow Wren and Sky deeper into the woods.

-An hour later-

-Keeper-

Keeper waited patiently outside the woods. He wished he could watch Bolt hunt, but obviously the presence of a big dragon nearby would cause all the animals in the woods to flee, and Bolt wouldn’t have anything to eat then. He thought back to the story the SkyWing had told him about Bolt’s hunting skills. If the story was true, then Bolt had once killed a bull twice as big as he was, which must have been quite a sight to behold.

He heard footsteps, but not just the tiny sounds of scavenger footsteps, but the deeper thuds of dragon steps.

“Bolt?” Keeper said, “Why is there a dragon with you?”

Out of the woods came Bolt, as well as the strangest SkyWing he had ever seen, and another human, a young female, who was riding the pale orange SkyWing.

“Ah, I see you’ve found a mate,” Keeper told Bolt with a straight face.

Bolt’s face turned a vivid pink. _“WHAT!?!?”_ He screamed, “NO!! We just met!”

Wren and Sky both laughed. “I’m Wren,” She said in Dragon to Keeper.

Keeper stood there dumbstruck. “Okay, first I meet a human that speaks Dragon in my head, _now_ there’s a human who actually _speaks_ Dragon!”

“Hello, Bolt’s friend!” Sky said, “My name is Sky!”

“Hello, Sky. My name is Keeper. I’ve never seen a SkyWing with colors like yours.”

“He’s special,” Wren said, “And he’s all mine.”

“And she’s mine too!” Sky said.

“Two peas in a pod,” Bolt commented, “The unlikeliest partnership. Kinda like us, Keeper.”

“You’re right,” Keeper replied, “So where do you two live?”

“Wherever the trail takes us,” Wren said.

“So basically you’re a Denless Scavenger just like Bolt used to be.”

“At least she _has_ a home to go back to,” Bolt grumbled.

Wren squeaked something in Scavenger at Bolt. Keeper couldn’t understand her, but what she was saying was: “At least _your_ family didn’t sacrifice you to the dragons!”

Bolt’s face turned a deep red. _Uh-oh,_ Keeper thought, _whatever that scavenger told him, he did_ not _like._

Bolt stomped up to Wren. “At least _your_ family isn’t DEAD! I’d _kill_ to have my parents back!”

More enraged squeaking from Wren. Bolt’s cheeks turned even redder, and he squealed something at the top of his lungs at Wren. It must have been something particularly nasty that didn’t have an equivalent in Dragon, because instead of hearing Bolt speaking Dragon inside his head, he heard Bolt’s own language, which sounded interesting. _So that’s what a human’s voice sounds like up close, I guess._

Wren went pale, as if she was shocked at what Bolt had shouted at him. Then, without warning, the two scavengers launched themselves at each other and began hitting each other with their paws, which had been curled up into balls. The two of them fell to the ground and dissolved into a flailing pile of flying ball-hands and loud screams.

“Bolt, STOP!!” Keeper shouted. He didn’t listen.

Sky looked horrified. Judging by his expression, he wanted to break up the fight but didn’t want to hurt either of the humans. Such a dilemma. Keeper tried stepping closer. There was no way he could pull the two of them apart without injuring one or both of them; his talons were simply too sharp, and the scavengers were moving too fast. So he tried a scare tactic.

Keeper drew in a breath and roared as loud as he could. The ground shook from the force of his roar, and instantly the two humans nearly jumped out of their respective skins, both of their instincts telling them to go into fight-or-flight. As the roar echoed on the horizon, Bolt got off of Wren and brushed off his clothing, and Wren stood and did the same.

“S-sorry.” Bolt told Wren.

“Wren!” Sky shouted, “Are you okay?”

Wren squeaked affirmatively at Sky. Sky nodded. Then he turned to Bolt, anger crossing his face. “You hurt Wren! You monster!” He spoke in Dragon.

-Bolt-

_Uh-oh,_ Thought Bolt.

“Sky, it’s fine!” Wren yelled, “I shouldn’t have insulted his family, it was a misunderstanding!”

Sky stepped menacingly towards Bolt. “No one hurts my Wren!”

Now it was Keeper’s turn to prepare to fight. “Stay away from Bolt,” he growled.

“Ugh, you see what we did!?” Bolt shouted at Wren, “Now our _dragons_ are fighting!”

“Sky, stop!” Wren tried to pull Sky away from Keeper by his tail.

“Keeper, please! Let’s go home!” Bolt tried calming Keeper down by patting his leg.

Suddenly Qibli came barreling down and landed between the two dragons. “You two, stop!” Winter soon followed.

“Winter!?” Bolt cried, “I thought you went back to Sanctuary!”

“I wanted to study your hunting habits,” Winter replied, “But I never thought I’d run into _another_ talking scavenger!” He turned to Wren. “Your name is Wren, right?”

“Do I know you?” Wren asked.

“Errm, no, you don’t. I’m Winter. I study scavengers as a hobby.”

“Get ready to be scienced upon, Wren.” Bolt laughed, “This guy _loves_ us.”

Winter looked at Sky. “Such strange coloration. But you’re obviously a SkyWing.”

“He doesn’t have any fire,” Wren told Winter, “I raised him from a dragonet.”

“A dragon raised by a scavenger! That’s so unheard of! Tell me more!”

As Bolt relaxed and ate some of the fruit he had gathered with Wren, Wren told Winter and Qibli her story.

“Well, I see scavengers have their rotten ones as well,” Winter commented when Wren told her about the dragonmancers in Talisman.

“There’s jerks in every species,” Bolt interjected, “It’s part of being intelligent.”

Wren thoughtfully left out the part where she killed General Sandstorm; she didn’t want Winter or the other dragons to see her as a dragonslayer. She did tell them about Rose and Smolder, though.

“You call this human ‘Rose.’ I thought her name was ‘Flower?’”

“It isn’t. She’s a friend of mine. She helped me rescue Sky when he was captured by SandWings.”

She told the rest of the story, and soon it was starting to get dark.

“We should be heading home,” Winter said, “The scavengers back in Sanctuary need to be fed.” Bolt still felt uneasy about Winter’s “sanctuary.” He would try to placate the fear Winter’s captive humans must certainly be feeling when he visited the town later.

“Well, be seeing you!” Qibli said, and he took off with Winter.

Bolt walked up to Wren. He winced when upon inspecting her more closely, there were bruises all over her face from where he had punched her in their tussle a few minutes ago. “Hey, I’m sorry about earlier.”

“No hard feelings,” Wren said, “I’m really sorry about your family. It must have really hurt to lose them.”

Bolt held out his hand to Wren. “Dragon companion buddies?”

Wren took Bolt’s hand and shook it. “Dragon companion buddies,” She affirmed. “Let’s meet again sometime.”

“I live in a dragon town called Possibility. I’ll be happy to see you there.”

“Bye!” Went Sky, and Wren got on his back. The two of them took off, and flew back over the woods.

Bolt let out a big yawn. “We should head back home too. I’ve got enough fruit to last me a couple days.”

\----------------------------------------

Back at the shop, Bolt curled up under a blanket in his bed and swiftly fell asleep. Keeper went into his bedroom in the back of the shop and went to bed himself.

-Midnight-

Keeper woke up from his slumber, not knowing why. He stood up and walked over to a table where a jug of water and a cup stood. He poured some of the water into the cup and drank it. When he was satisfied, he decided to go check up on Bolt.

Okay, first of all, Bolt looked downright _adorable_ in his sleep. All the tenseness Bolt often had in his waking hours had melted away, and the serene peace on what he could see of his face made Keeper feel light and airy inside. Bolt’s little arm flopped down off the edge of his bed and his sleeve rolled up a little bit. Then Keeper gasped.

At the base of Bolt’s paw, where his hand met his forelimb, was a glowing blue ring, pulsing with a strange sound.


	7. Sanctuary

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> OK, in case you didn't notice the couple seconds this chapter was up the first time, I epic-failed at adding an image to the chapter several times over, so here's yet another DeviantArt link, two of them actually, for drawings I made of Bolt's WristUnit. I actually had some fun drawing them. [Links are in the comments.] 
> 
> \-----------
> 
> Alternate Title: "The Magic of Technology"
> 
> I've actually broken my record of longest chapter in Bolt and Keeper. Clocking in at 4,964 words (According to LibreOffice) this chapter is quite a read. Oh, and I'm introducing Bolt to MANY characters in this chapter, so forgive me if Bolt has to repeat himself several times across this piece. It couldn't be avoided.
> 
> Also, since we haven't canonically "seen" Sanctuary yet, my description of the town may end up being different than how it turns out in a future Wings of Fire book. Just warning you, in case you needed to know.  
> -ACTUAL CHAPTER DESCRIPTION HERE-
> 
> Bolt learns that something shocking lurks inside his body, and it may hold the key to his future. Here we will learn what truly gives Bolt his ability to talk to dragons.

Chapter Seven: Sanctuary

-Bolt-

Bolt was a little kid again, in a light, fluffy world filled with love. His parents were at his side, his childhood friend was playing near him, and there wasn’t a man-eating dragon in sight. He took his father’s hand and strolled down the road towards Outpost Village, which was filled with springtime blooms and lush trees.

At the village, he and his family ate a hearty meal underneath a blooming cherry tree, an unbreakable smile on Bolt’s face. His dad gave a hearty laugh at a childish joke Bolt told and got up to clean the dishes. He spent what felt like hours playing with his friend and his cousin until the sun went down.

“Bolt?” Came a strange voice from nowhere.

His mother tucked him tightly into bed and planted a kiss on his cheek.

“Bolt? Wake up!”

_Why? I’m already awake._

“BOLT!! WAKE UP!!”

“MOMMY!!” Bolt screamed as he jolted awake. He looked around him, and fell into a deep depression when he realized that it was all a dream; his parents were still dead, and he was stuck in a village filled with dragons that would quickly gobble him up if they had the chance. _Darn it, why couldn’t that have been real!?_ He thought.

“Bolt,” Keeper said, a look of mild shock on his face, “Look at your hand.”

_He woke me up for THIS. Unbelievable._ He spoke sarcastically: “What’s wrong with it? Did Sienna bite it off while I was sleeping or something? I--” He looked at his wrist. “Oh…”

“Has this ever happened before?”

“No. I mean, I’ve felt tingling down there before, but this…” He poked his wrist with his finger. Both Bolt and Keeper jumped in surprise when the ring glowing there suddenly shone brighter, and before their eyes, a mysterious floating rectangular shape appeared, hovering over his hand.

A flurry of seemingly random letters, numbers, and symbols in the English alphabet flew across the floating rectangle at high speed, while a high-pitched whine building in pitch issued from the ring.  
  
"What does it feel like?" Keeper asked, his face filled with wonder. He had never seen anything like this.  
  
"It doesn't feel like anything," Bolt replied, equally entranced with his apparently magic wrist, "It's just there."  
  
Now words were beginning to appear on the magic window, or at least something resembling words:  
  
  
  
\--wristunit mk1--  
  
os v1.15.14 (october 2597)  
  
\-------------------  
  
installed cpu intertronics aa40 mk1  
  
installed ram 16tb  
  
available storage 99/100tb  
  
no holodrive detected  
  
  
\--------------------------------  
  
first time boot detected, loading setup assistant  
  
.......................done  
  
  
  
  
The window disappeared, and a simple semblance of a smiling human face appeared over the glowing circle. The face began to speak. It spoke in a strange high-pitched voice, somewhat childish and feminine.  
  
“Hi there, [MISSINGNAME]! I'm currently pairing with your other implants!”  
  
A three-dimensional image of Bolt's body appeared above his wrist.  
  
“I found:”  
  
“1 Mk. 1 telepathic translator, which seems to already be active!” (A dot appeared inside Bolt's head on the projection)  
  
“1 cardiac monitor! (Model HM240H1)” (Another dot in his chest)  
  
“1 Spatial Intelligence (Series 1) GPS implant!” (Finally, a dot on his left shoulder)  
  
....................  
  
“Hooray! We're all set up! Hey, I have a message from Darter [MISSINGLASTNAME]! Would you like me to play it for you?”  
  
"Darter..." Bolt breathed, then he perked up, "That was my dad's name!"  
  
"Would you like me to play the message?"  
  
"Yes! Yes please!"  
  
Another 3D image appeared above his wrist. Bolt gasped; it was a perfect recreation of his late father, though he looked somewhat younger than when he had last seen him.  
  
"Hello Bolt,” Said his “dad,” “This is your father speaking. I have recorded this message to play to you in the event you successfully activate your WristUnit implant."

Tears began to flow down Bolt’s face. “D-dad…” He cried.

Bolt’s dad continued speaking. “The WristUnit is a very advanced piece of nanotechnology from our ancestors. I can’t say much about where it came from yet, as you’re probably too young to understand your true purpose in life yet. What I can say is that this device inside your body is capable of doing many amazing things. It can tell you how healthy you are, display a map of your surroundings, and operate many types of machinery. For now, I’d like you to experiment with the map function. Tap the ring on your wrist twice to pull it up.” He looks down for a second, as if comtemplating the idea that he might not be around by the time Bolt got the message. He looked back up, his eyes now filled with affection for his son. “And Bolt… I love you so much. Please take care of yourself.” The message ended as Bolt sobbed.

“...What was that just now?” Said Keeper.

“That was my dad…” Bolt breathed, “And he left a gift inside my body…”

Bolt broke out of his sadness and followed his father’s instructions, and tapped his wrist twice. A circle expanded out from the ring and formed into a very detailed map. A few seconds later, a dot appeared on the map in the desert, right over where he presumed Possibility stood, though strangely the settlement was not shown on the map.

“Amazing… This map shows exactly where I am on it!” He laughed happily. “I’ll never get lost again!”

“So you have some sort of super-power, besides the fact that you’re telepathic?”

“No, it’s not a super-power… It’s magic machinery of some sort, like my silver torch is. And that must be how I can talk to dragons too! There’s something inside my head that’s translating everything I say!”

“I’m not going to begin to understand what all this is. Since when did scavengers have anything like this!?”

“We _don’t_ have anything like this. But my dad said that this thing was made by my ‘ancestors.’”

“Perhaps it is an artifact from before the Scorching.”

“The Scorching?”

“Dragons weren’t always the dominant species here on Pyrrhia. Before us, there was _you._ Humans predate us dragons by countless millennia. (He looked like he was struggling to tell this next part) But over five thousand years ago… Dragons appeared and killed off most of you. Now we rule, and humans like you are an endangered species.” Bolt looked a little put down. Bolt was thinking about how horrible death on that scale must have been. “Anyway, it’s said that the humans from before the Scorching had some very unusual machines. Perhaps this is one of them.”

“It’s the only logical explanation we have.” Bolt looked at the map. Strangely, another dot, a very large one, had appeared on the map. It sat on the ocean just off the shore of the swamps of the Mud Kingdom. This dot had an arrow shape floating above it. _What in the world is this?_ Bolt thought, _I’ll go investigate that later._

Bolt yawned. There was a strange string of numbers floating next to the map that read “00:12,” but Bolt didn’t know what a clock was, let alone how to read one, so all he knew is that it must still be late at night. “Keeper, I need to go back to sleep. In the morning, let’s go to Sanctuary. I want to test out this ‘map’ of mine.”

“Very well, Bolt. Sweet dreams.”

-That morning-

Bolt ate a light breakfast of bread and butter and walked into the main store room, where he found Keeper looking up at the painting of the “Flying City.”

“Maybe the Lost Flying City of the Scavengers is another pre-Scorching artifact.” Keeper stated, “I wonder what happened to it?”

Bolt tapped his wrist. The rectangle reappeared, displaying the words “Hello, [MissingName]” before it showed a complex image, with tab shapes on the left, and the word “WristUnit MK1” in the corner. Out of curiosity, he touched one of the tabs, which had a square on it. The tab slid across the rectangle and opened up a grid of squares that had little pictures on them. Each picture had a label. Among them were “Maps,” “Calculator,” (Whatever _that_ was) and “Vitals,” which had a picture of a heart on it. Out of a strange instinct, he touched the heart, and the rectangle morphed into a circle and moved to float on top of his wrist instead of out of it, the same position the map took when it appeared.

Inside the circle was a rather gross picture of what Bolt presumed was what the inside of his body looked like. Surrounding the picture were a multitude of strange numbers, like “85 bpm” and “146 systolic, 89 diastolic.” There was also a spot where apparently the WristUnit counted his steps. In the spot for a day last week, apparently he had walked over 90,000 steps in one day. _Don’t know why I’d need to know how many steps I’ve taken, but it’s interesting to know, I guess._

Keeper stepped away from the painting and looked at Bolt fiddling with his WristUnit. “You probably shouldn’t have that out in public,” he said, “It might attract unneeded attention.”

“I guess you’re right. Anyway, let’s get going for Sanctuary.” He switched to the map function. “Where is it on the map?”

Keeper had to really squint to see the tiny map with enough detail to make it out. He pointed his talon to the location of the town, north of the Indestructible City.

“That’s where it is? Interesting. My old village isn’t too far from there.”

“Where is it?”

Bolt pointed to a spot southeast of Sanctuary, on the other side of the Diamond Spray River. The village, curiously enough, was marked on the map, unlike most of the other dragon and human settlements. The Indestructible City was the only other human town marked on the map, while only a few dragon cities were present, such as the Sky Kingdom’s castle and the SandWing Palace. Also interestingly enough, the Night Dragons’ island was marked on it, which no dragon _or_ human map did, as well as another castle on a peninsula on the southwest edge of Pyrrhia that was simply marked, “Abandoned castle structure.”

“If you want to go back to your village to visit someday, I’ll gladly fly you there.”

(Sigh) “No need. Everything there’s gone. Only thing left is my dad’s safe.”

Bolt got on Keeper’s back and he walked out of the shop and locked the door. They walked through town a bit. They passed Sienna, who looked at Bolt, causing him to become very nervous. _Don’t even_ think _about it, dragon. I’m not on the menu!_

Keeper walked to the edge of town. “Ready?” He asked Bolt.

“Yep.”

Keeper took off. Bolt double-tapped his wrist and opened up the map. He noticed that now that he was airborne, the map had amazingly transformed into a three-dimensional one, showing the topography of the desert and the mountains in the distance. Additionally, the map also showed statistics like his speed and altitude, which wouldn’t be useful to Bolt but would likely be invaluable to Keeper as a metric of his flight capabilities. _These ancient humans really thought of everything,_ he thought.

“Which way?” Keeper called back to Bolt.

Bolt checked the map, and located the spot where Sanctuary should be. “That way!” He shouted above the wind, pointing in the direction they needed to go in. Keeper turned in the air and flew towards their destination.

-Sanctuary-

Sanctuary was a town that looked somewhat similar to Possibility, albeit more forested and temperate than the desert town he called home. Keeper landed, while Bolt turned off his WristUnit so nobody would notice it. He looked around. There were plenty of dragon houses, but he couldn’t see the human part of the town just yet. He _did_ see Winter though, and Keeper walked up to him.

“Keeper! Bolt!” Winter shouted at them, “You came!”

“We had a bit of a… Thing with Bolt,” Keeper said.

“What kind of _thing?_ Did he get hurt?”

Bolt held out his arm to Winter and tapped his wrist. Out popped the “desktop” screen of the WristUnit. Winter made a little gasp when he saw the WristUnit activate. “What manner of magic is this?”

“We think Bolt may have relics from before the Scorching embedded in his body,” Keeper replied, “It’s some sort of machine that apparently Bolt’s father gave to him.”

“Fascinating. Come into my house, I must examine this device further!”

The inside of Winter’s house had walls covered in anatomical diagrams of humans. Bolt looked a little uneasy. “You’re not dissecting any of us, are you?”

“Only the dead ones. The ones who die of old age or… Otherwise.”

Bolt had a cold feeling inside of him and he shivered.

“So what does this machine do?” Winter asked Bolt.

“Well, so far I’ve figured out that it can tell me how my body’s doing, it has a map that shows where I am on it, and it also had a message from my dad.”

Keeper set Bolt down on a table, and Winter walked over and picked up Bolt’s arm. Winter’s talons were gentle, but freezing cold, causing the hairs on his arm to stand up, and he began to grow goosebumps. He touched Bolt’s wrist. Nothing happened.

“I guess it only responds to me,” Bolt commented. He tapped his wrist, and right away the main menu opened.

Winter squinted at the screen. He seemed to be trying to read the English text on the screen.

“So scavengers have their own written language. It looks pretty, though this obviously isn’t talon-written, it’s printed.”

“You’ve been studying us for this long and you didn’t know we can write?”  
  


“Admittedly, it is difficult to study you humans when you turn tail and run the second you see us.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Though I think my scavengers are getting used to my presence. Just last evening I was able to catch a glimpse of a group of humans eating their dinner. I tried to listen in on their speech, but unfortunately, I couldn’t understand any of the words. Maybe you can… Teach me?”

“I’d be happy to.”

Just then, a group of two SandWings entered the house. One had numerous keys dangling from his neck, and much to Bolt’s shock, a female adult human riding on his back. The other SandWing radiated an aura of sweetness, her eyes locked lovingly on the human riding the SandWing.

“Winter, I hope you haven’t forgotten about our little scavenger playdate.” Said the key-bearing SandWing.

“Prince Smolder!” Winter said.

“Winter, you know we’re _both_ no longer princes.”

“Ah, yes, I apologize. But come see this! This scavenger can _talk_ to us!”

Smolder looked very skeptical. “Winter, you’re spending so much time among these creatures, I worry you may turn yourself into one someday.”

Bolt grinned mischievously under his scarf, walked to the edge of the table, and bowed. “Your majesty,” Bolt said flamboyantly.

The look of utter shock on both SandWings’ faces caused the human on Smolder’s back to burst into laughter. The “sweet” SandWing spoke first. “That’s so cute!! He’s telepathic!” She turned to Keeper. “How did you teach him to do that!?”

Keeper looked very nervous. “Well, I don’t think he was ‘taught’ how to do this. I think he was hatched with this ability.”

“Three moons above,” Smolder said, “I must be dreaming. There’s no way scavengers are intelligent.”

“Says the dragon that seems to already be friends with one,” Commented Bolt.

“I’ve told you time and time again that scavengers are more than meets the eye,” Winter said, “And this is my proof, right here in front of us!”

Smolder grabbed “his” human off of his back and set her on the table next to Bolt. “Speak to her,” He commanded Bolt, “Tell me what she’s feeling.”

Bolt looked at the human. Suddenly, he realized that he had heard of her before. _This must be Rose!_ “Um, hello, Rose. How are you doing?”

Rose looked a bit shocked. “How do you know my name?”

“I’m friends with Wren. She told me about you.”

“Oh, that explains it. Do all you people who can talk to dragons live in some commune somewhere? Cause it’s like you _all_ know each other!”

“I just met her yesterday.” Bolt thought Rose was, fitting her name, very pretty. But it was also making him nervous having to talk to another human while being observed by many dragons. He could feel his heart beating, and suddenly--

“Heart rate elevation detected,” Went Bolt’s wrist, “Would you like to activate an exercise profile?”

“Three moons above, what was _that_!?”

Bolt frantically fumbled with his WristUnit to turn it back off. “It’s just this _really_ weird thing my father put in my body. I’m still getting used to it.”

“Your father put things in your _body!?_ ”

This conversation was going downhill fast. “It doesn’t hurt… Or anything, it’s actually really useful!”

-Keeper-

First of all, it was always very strange to Keeper whenever Bolt began talking to another scavenger. Since he could only understand his language through his telepathy, Keeper could only hear one side of the conversation. On one end, there was Bolt, whom he could hear in Dragon in his mind. On the other, there was “Rose,” whose speech was just a jumble of high-pitched mammal noises to him. _I might take Bolt up on those scavenger language classes like Winter wants to,_ he thought.

He looked at Smolder and his guard. It seemed that they too were a little confused, since they could hear Bolt just fine but not Smolder’s pet. And then when Bolt’s paw-thing flared up and started speaking on its own, Rose became shocked, and as Bolt attempted to calm her down, Smolder and the other SandWing also looked startled.

“What’s that glowing thing on the scavvie’s paw?” the guard asked.

_Well, the secret’s out_ , Keeper thought. “It’s a pre-Scorching artifact that the human has inside his body.”

“Where in the world did you find this thing!? And what in the three moons is a ‘human!?’” Smolder yelled.

“Humans are what scavengers call themselves,” Winter explained. “They have their own language, their own society, everything _we_ have, _they_ have.”

“This is too much,” Smolder said, looking winded.

-Bolt-

The guard looked a little put out too. That’s when Bolt noticed the sweet SandWing looking not so sweet anymore, but almost sad. “They’re not just cute little animals… They’re so much more… Everything I knew is a lie…” This broke Bolt’s heart, seeing a dragon who so obviously loved humans breaking down like this, and he knew he _had_ to comfort her.

“You can still call me cute if you want to,” Bolt reassured the dragon, “I don’t mind.”

“Oh, you little thing!” The dragon cooed with happiness, rushed over and picked Bolt up in her talons. Bolt tried hard not to cry out in shock or alarm when she grabbed him, and Keeper, given that he knew Bolt’s history with dragons he doesn’t know, looked very nervous at how she was treating him. Smolder looked like he was going to admonish his guard for breaking up like this, but he decided against it.

“So, what’s your name?” Bolt asked her.

“I’m Cereus,” She said, “Do you have a name?”

“I’m Bolt.”

“That’s such an adorable name! It suits you. Did your dragon friend give it to you?”

“Nope. I was named by my dad.”

“Did you get that beautiful gold fur from him?”

“Yes. My mother had it too though.”

“You must be really proud of that lustrous fur,” Smolder said.

“It’s not so much a point of pride for me as much as it is a confusion. No one else besides the people in my village has hair like this, or this skin color, for that matter.”

“That’s not entirely true, on the skin color part,” Smolder said, “My late sister had a scavenger in her collection with pale skin like yours.”

“Was she good friends with him?”

“She had him stuffed and put on display in her tower.”

Bolt looked _horrified_.

“Sorry, I guess that would be really offensive to a scavenger like you.”

Bolt grew a cold expression, trying to freeze his fear out of his body. “I’ve seen dragons do worse to us.”

After talking with Smolder, Rose, and Cereus for some time, the group decided to visit the scavenger sanctuary. Bolt climbed onto Keeper’s back, while Rose got onto Smolder’s, and they all walked down to the sanctuary together. In their conversation, he could see that Smolder and Cereus had developed a sort of respect for Bolt, and Bolt hoped the two of them would see Rose and other humans in a different light now. _Peace between humans and dragons, one step at a time._

They arrived at the sanctuary. Bolt was actually pleasantly surprised. He was expecting lines of cages, and barbed wire everywhere. Instead what greeted him was an honest _town_ , complete with houses, a well, and even a garden at the edge of it. There was, however, a large wall surrounding the town, which Bolt suspected was less to keep dragons out than it was to keep the humans in. Nonetheless, if Winter _had_ built this place, he put a ton of thought into it. He really did care about them, even if he considered them his property. Winter climbed up to an observation platform above the wall, and gestured for the others to join him there.

Bolt looked down over Keeper’s shoulder at the town. The humans in the town looked up at them warily, looking as if they would bolt to a house the second the dragons made a wrong move. Or maybe not a house. Bolt saw that Winter had the presence of mind to construct a fortified safety shelter in the middle of the town, appearing to be a larger version of the bunker his own village had. _OK, he really thought of everything._ Though Bolt hoped the humans would never genuinely _need_ to use the shelter Winter thoughtfully provided them.

“So you really do care about us,” Bolt told Winter.

“What were you thinking my sanctuary was going to look like?”

“Doom, gloom, Bandit cages everywhere.”

Winter looked somewhat offended. “I would _never_ treat my scavengers like that. I desire to give my subjects all the comforts of home!”

_He still took them out of their_ old _homes,_ Bolt thought, making sure not to voice that thought out loud. _Hopefully none of them have families that miss them…_

“Would you like to go down there?” Winter asked Bolt.

“No.” Bolt said simply. “Believe it or not, I don’t do too well around other humans. I’m a loner. My parents died before I could really learn how to talk to other people, so I… Just don’t like interacting with other people.”

Rose looked sympathetically at Bolt. “Your family, they’re…?”

“Gone. Eaten by Mountain Dragons.”

Due to Bolt’s translator, both Rose and the other dragons heard his response. Smolder looked a little down, while Cereus looked positively heartbroken.

“You poor thing…” Cereus said.

“Don’t cry for me,” Bolt said, trying to tough himself out of going into a rut again, “I’ve had enough depression these past few days.”

The humans in the town suddenly fled for the shelter. Bolt looked up and saw three more dragons descend on Sanctuary. More SandWings. One of them had an ornate jewel around her neck, the other two seemed to be guards just like Cereus. They landed in the square, and Smolder and Cereus approached her. Bolt couldn’t tell that well, but it looked like Smolder had eyes on the main dragon in the group, romantic ones at that.

“Who’s that with the necklace?” Bolt asked Keeper.

“Our SandWing Queen, Her Majesty Thorn.”

“You guys have a queen? I thought some stupid person killed her?”

“We got a new one after much bloodshed and violence.”

“Hello, your majesty,” Smolder said, “What brings you all the way out here?”

“While I’ll never truly understand what it is with you and that scavenger, I thought I’d take the time to learn more about them, since you’re always seen with one. And what better place to do that then at the place at the front line of the study of these creatures?” She looked at Winter, still up on the lookout post. “Oh, Winter, there you are! Please, enlighten me with your knowledge!”

Winter glided down off the platform towards her. Then Keeper followed him, Bolt clinging to his neck as he descended.

“Ah, another SandWing making their studies? Are you from Jade Mountain Academy?”

“No, your majesty, I’m a shopkeeper from Possibility. My name is Keeper, and the scavenger on my back is named Bolt.”

_OK, what do I do here?_ Bolt thought, _Am I going to have to talk to this lady? How’s_ she _going to feel about one of us opening their mouths inside her head?_

“Oh, so you have one too! Though I’ve never seen one with that coloration before. Is he exotic?”

“I would presume so, but you’d have to ask him yourself.”

_& ^%&(**_} _!!!_ Went Bolt in his head.

“Are you playing some sort of joke with me, Keeper?” Said Queen Thorn, more confused than annoyed, thankfully, “How do you expect me to talk to a scavenger?”

“Like this,” said Bolt.

Thorn’s eyes went wide. “Sweet frolicking camels!” Her guards looked shaken too.

“Yes, I know, I can talk. Can we skip all the shock? This has already happened once before today.”

“Smolder, did you meet this… Creature!?”

“Hey, that’s not nice, your majesty,” Bolt complained, “I have feelings, you know.”

“I most certainly did meet him, my queen,” Smolder said, “He’s actually very pleasant company.”

“Well, this is… Unheard of! Come closer so I can see you better, Bolt.”

Bolt slid off Keeper’s back and carefully stepped between all the dragons crowding the area to reach the queen.

“Take off that thing covering your face.”

“Uh-oh,” Keeper whispered while wincing.

Bolt looked conflicted. After all, this was a _queen_ he was dealing with. But he remained steadfast. “I vowed never to take off this scarf, your majesty, out of honor to my beloved parents, who were killed by SkyWings when I was but a small child.” He felt a little proud of himself speaking like that, _very_ formal.

“Oh, if that’s how it is, then I apologize,” Thorn said, trying to match Bolt’s formality, “My condolences to your family.”

-Keeper-

Keeper sighed with relief. Thorn was a very reasonable queen, luckily for Bolt. If it were almost any other dragon monarch his head would have been bitten off if he tried refusing an order. _Come to think of it, his head would have been bitten off if he had been so much as_ seen _by a dragon queen of any other tribe. We have a lot of work to do._

Rose squeaked something at Bolt from Smolder’s back, and in reply Bolt relayed what had happened in the past few minutes to her. _My suspicions were definitely correct. Bolt would make a wonderful bridge between our species._

“How would you and Keeper like to visit my stronghold tomorrow?” Thorn asked. “I mean, as long as you don’t get yourself into anything sneaky.”

“Your majesty, you have my word I won’t touch anything. Besides, I’m not interested in treasure. I have everything I need in life already.”

“It’s nice you feel that way,” Thorn said. “I wish your compatriots several years ago were as thoughtful as you. Anyway, Winter, please show me the scavenger den. And Bolt, maybe you could offer me some insight into their behavior.”

“Good idea,” Bolt said.

The dragons went back up to the platform and together they observed the human village. Bolt would make comments about various things the humans were doing while Winter took notes off of what Bolt was saying.

“They’re so much like us,” Thorn said, “They have jobs, villages, and I’m going to guess those squeaks are some sort of language?”

“Yep,” Confirmed Bolt.

They continued observing for several hours. Then, just after the humans in the sanctuary had their lunch, Thorn commented that she had to go back to the stronghold to accomplish some business. She looked at Smolder, then glanced at Rose with a newfound glint of interest and curiosity, and together with her guards she took off back for the Sand Kingdom.

Winter approached Bolt. “Bolt, you’ve provided so much vital information about scavenger behavior. Thank you so much.”

“No problem,” Bolt said, “Just doing my job bringing together humankind and dragonkind… Or at least making sure nothing like what happened to me ever happens again.”

Smolder looked at Bolt. “That’s a pretty tall order there, little human. Most SandWings like humans enough, but some tribes aren’t as easily brought over to your side. IceWings (Other than Winter, of course) and SkyWings would be especially set in their ways and are very unlikely to stop their mistreatment of you people.”

Bolt knew he was right, but still, there had to be _something_ he can do! He steeled himself. “I’m still going to try,” Bolt stated with a determined look in his eyes, “Because no intelligent species deserves to be treated like this. We have to make things right.” He held up his wrist, and the WristUnit’s ring began to glow. “With my unique technology giving me the gift of communication with dragons, we have a perfect chance to unite our peoples.” He balled his hands into fists. “In my parents’ memory, I’m going to make sure no human ever suffers at the talons of a dragon _ever_ again.” He adjusted his scarf. “I’m going to endure until I can make that happen.”


	8. Conversation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bolt gets to be a special guest at the SandWing palace. It's his biggest chance yet to help the tribe see humans as friends rather than food. Unfortunately, some guards in the stronghold have a rather nasty revenge prank they plan to pull on Bolt for Queen Oasis's death. It will be up to Keeper once again to ensure his friend's safety.
> 
> I apologize for this chapter's late release. This chapter is actually not a part of the original arc I had planned for this story, so I had to spend extra time developing it, basically writing the chapter from scratch. It's also almost twice as long as the previous chapter, at around 7,100 words. (Once again by LibreOffice's count, not AO3's)
> 
> ALSO, Please be warned that there's a rather graphic scene towards the end. It's not gore, but it's still gross and kinda dark, so please be careful with this chapter if you're sensitive.
> 
> (EDIT) Check the comments for a shocking trailer for Chapter Nine, due to be released next Monday.

Chapter Eight: Conversation

-Bolt, back in Keeper’s shop after a long day in Sanctuary-

Hello, [MissingName]

“Why does it keep calling me that?” Bolt asked himself as he fiddled with his WristUnit. “Why didn’t dad tell it my name?”

Bolt was tapping on random squares within the square menu on the desktop, the one where apparently he could tell the WristUnit what he wanted to do with it. He already knew what “Maps” and “Vitals” did, but there were easily a dozen more functions this thing in his arm had.

“Planetary Clock, Calculator, Document Editor, and what’s this? Music. Huh, I guess this thing can play me a song.” He tapped on the square with a music note on it.

The square expanded to fill the screen and soon before his eyes was a list of weird phrases that must be the titles of songs. He found a song title that caught his eye, “Moonlight Sonata,” by some probably long-dead human with a name he _definitely_ didn’t think a person would have nowadays.

“Bee… Too… Ven?? Am I saying that right? Whatever, I’ll just play the song.” He tapped the song’s entry on the list.

Out of his wrist came a melody that captured his soul. He had never heard a musical instrument like this before. He couldn’t describe the sound of it, at once soothing and powerful. He could fall asleep to this song. So that’s exactly what he did. He settled down in his bed on Keeper’s shelf and pulled his blanket over his body. With his wrist covered by the blanket, the music became a little muffled, but he could still hear it well enough. He closed his eyes, and with the melody guiding him, he faded into darkness.

-Keeper-

It had been a very eventful day. First he learned that little Bolt had a little bit of the ancient past stuck to his hide, then he got to meet his queen and got invited to her palace! But all these exciting things couldn’t save him from his real predicament. He dug through a drawer on his desk and produced a scroll. On the scroll were sales figures, and at the bottom was a note he left himself on the debt he was in. And with Bolt added to his family he certainly would have more expenses to deal with.

_What am I going to do?_ Keeper wondered. _It’s getting late. I should go to bed to be rested up for my visit to the royal stronghold tomorrow._

Keeper sauntered into his bedroom. He noticed that his straw bed was becoming a little dirty. He felt a little jealous of Bolt, who had the know-how to make what looked like a supremely comfortable bed for himself, out of scrap no less. He settled down into his straw bed, and curled up cat-like with his tail wrapped around his body, and he stretched his wings and himself faded into darkness.

…………………………………………………

“DON’T HURT ME!!!”

Bolt’s scream jolted Keeper awake. The little scavenger had screamed so loud that the telepathic side of his cry for help had carried around the entire building.

“Oh no. BOLT!!” Keeper yelled as he jumped out of his bed. He figured that someone had broken into his shop and was about to eat his friend. He burst through the bedroom door into the main shop room, and became confused when he saw the front door still shut and locked. But nevertheless he could hear little panicked squeaks and cries coming from his storeroom. _What is going on?_

He walked into the storeroom and lit the torch inside. He looked straight at Bolt’s bed and saw his blanket flailing and thrashing around as Bolt seemed to be fighting his bedding like his blankets were some SkyWing’s mouth about to swallow him whole. Which turned out to be somewhat true, at least from Bolt’s perspective, as the little human was having one of his regular nightmares about being eaten by the dragon that killed his parents. Of course, Keeper didn’t know this.

Bolt’s panic grew even more pitched and suddenly, he rolled violently to his right and fell straight out of bed, and since his bed was precariously close to the edge of the shelf, Bolt , still inside his fabric prison, plummeted over the edge of the platform. Keeper wasted no time and rushed forward to catch him in his talons. Bolt woke up straight away, and realized that he was not inside a dragon’s mouth, but was instead rolled up in a ball inside his blanket.

Keeper watched as Bolt’s furry golden head poked out of the blanket, his eyes wide with lingering terror, and he looked up at Keeper and breathed a sigh of relief. “That nightmare you were just having must have been very intense.” Keeper commented.

“I’ve had them several times a week, ever since the day I lost my parents. I should be used to them by now, but it’s like every time it happens, it’s so… Fresh to me it’s like it’s the first time it’s occurring. Every other night, the same dragon eats me in my sleep, and it never gets any less terrifying.”

“That’s terrible,” Keeper said sympathetically, “I can’t imagine how much pain you must be in when this happens to you.” He set Bolt down on the ground and tried to free him from his bedding. Once Bolt was out, he noticed that a wetness had invaded the area of Bolt’s body where his legs met, soaking his bottom covering. Bolt noticed this too and he both blushed with embarrassment and frowned with annoyance.

“Not this again!” He blurted out, “I thought I stopped having these episodes!”

“What happened?”

“I peed myself in my sleep, probably because I was so scared during my nightmare,” Bolt groaned. “At least I recently washed my other pants though.” He went up his ladder, rummaged through his bag and pulled out his other fabric covering for his legs, and another short covering to wear beneath it. “Turn around, and DON’T look,” Bolt commanded Keeper.

Remembering that scavengers _really_ didn’t like being seen without their clothes on, Keeper turned and left the room, facing away from the door as he heard a shuffle of moving fabric. _Very strange custom,_ Keeper thought to himself.

“OK, you can look now,” Bolt called. Bolt was now wearing the bottom coverings he had met him in, brown “pants” that were made presumably out of cotton like it seemed most scavenger coverings were made from. They looked comfortable, yet functional.

“You can go back to bed if you want to,” Bolt said, “It’s going to take me a while to get back to sleep.”

“Very well, Bolt. Please be careful, though. You might want to move your bed away from the edge of the shelf. If I wasn’t around to catch you a few minutes ago, you would have fallen quite a ways when you rolled out of bed.”

“Oh… So that’s how I ended up trapped in my blanket inside your talons. Yeah, I better fix that. Good night, Keeper.”

-Bolt-

Keeper wished him better dreams, then left. Bolt went “downstairs,” pulled his blanket off the ground, and climbed up the ladder with it back up to his bedroom, bed-shelf, whatever he was going to call it. Right away he grabbed his bed with both hands and shoved it away from the edge of the shelf. He looked down over the edge. Keeper was right, a fall from that height would seriously hurt him. He thought himself stupid for putting the bed there, then again, he hadn’t anticipated he’d be rolling around so much in his sleep.

He remade his bed and then noticed that his WristUnit was flashing, its light turning on and off. “Is it trying to tell me something?” He asked himself out loud, and he tapped his wrist. Above the desktop floated another thin window with a message inside it. It read: “Abnormal HR signal detected. Tap here for more information.”

“HR what?” He tapped on the window. The Vitals function with its weird image of his guts popped up, and sure enough, in the “HR History” window, was a much larger number than what was in the “Current” slot for his “HR:” 199, rather than his current score, 78. Judging by the fact that the former number was highlighted in red, apparently having an “HR” of 199 wasn’t a good thing. He figured it had something to do with his nightmare.

He shrugged and continued to work. He retrieved his soiled pants and underwear, and his nose scrunched up when he smelled them. They _reeked_ of urine _. I seriously emptied my whole bladder into these things. It’s ridiculous that I’m still having nightmares this bad. I should find someone to talk to about this, someone who can help me through them._

Thankfully he still had some laundry soap, and he went to the big dragon cup, still filled with water, (Though he’d have to ask Keeper to change out the water when he was done with this task) and he dropped his pants and shorts into the cup, then threw in a bit of the soap, He produced a coarse brush from his backpack and began to scrub his pants and underpants vigorously, paying special attention to the crotch region. When he was finished, he laid the articles of clothing out over the edge of the shelf to dry, and he plodded back to his bed, now tired again, and went to bed.

-The Next Morning-

-Keeper-

Keeper woke up a couple hours past sunrise. After a drink of water, he approached Bolt’s room, and thankfully this time the scavenger was sleeping soundly, ninety-nine percent less panicky then he was last night. Hopefully he would wake up soon, though. They needed to leave for the stronghold in a couple hours.

Keeper went over his finances again. He wished he could somehow convince Queen Thorn to loan him some of the SandWing treasure to pay off his debts. A darker part of him greedily suggested that he could have Bolt sneak in and steal some of the treasure like some of his brethren had done, though that thought was quickly banished. He would _never_ betray Thorn’s trust, _nor_ would he ever endanger Bolt’s life by having him do such a thing. He doubted the little guy would even agree to do something that risky. He sighed. _Someday I hope some big buyer comes in and purchases everything I have. Then I could pay_ HIM _off and be free of that guy forever. How much longer do I have to pay him off anyway?_

Half an hour later, he heard a tiny yawn come from the storeroom. _Bolt’s awake._ A few minutes later, Bolt walked out of the storeroom with a tiny piece of bread in his hand, though from Bolt’s point of view the bread was enough to fill him until lunchtime. He took a bite out of the bread and chewed on it as he stared up at Keeper.

“What’s all those papers for?” He asked.

Keeper didn’t want to scare him with stories of his debtor. “It’s nothing important.”

“OK then.” He pulled out an apple from seemingly nowhere. “Want an apple?”

“No thanks, I’m not hungry.”

“Suit yourself,” Said Bolt, and he bit into the fruit with a loud crunch.

-Bolt-

An hour and a half later it was time to leave. Bolt once again climbed onto Keeper’s back and together they left the store. This time not running into Sienna, thankfully, they reached the edge of town and Keeper took off. Bolt opened the map on his WristUnit, and just like before, the map became three-dimensional once they were in the air. He figured that Keeper would know how to get to the palace, though, so this time he didn’t provide directions.

\---------------------------

A couple hours later, when the Sun was halfway to its highest point in the sky, Keeper landed at the gate of the SandWing stronghold. And just in the nick of time, too. With the hot desert sun beating down on Bolt the whole way there, despite the fact that the wind up in the air kept him cool, Bolt had become very thirsty, and he stupidly left his canteen behind at Keeper’s house.

Two burly SandWing guards protected the gate. They looked at Keeper, then their expressions soured when they saw Bolt. “What do you think you’re doing with that scavenger?” One of them asked Keeper. “You trying to pull something on us? Trying to steal the treasure or something?”

Keeper looked a little nervous now. “We’re _both_ invited guests of the Queen,” he said.

“Oh, sure, like our Queen would want anything to do with a scavenger. You stupid or something? Tell me what happened to the _last_ SandWing Queen.”

Bolt wasn’t happy with how the guards were treating his friend. He would open his mouth and say something witty at them, but he didn’t want to anger them or shock them with his speech ability. Thankfully, he didn’t have to say anything, because he heard Thorn’s voice coming from behind the gate.

“Is that Keeper and Bolt? Please let them in.”

_Was she waiting for us behind that gate?_ Bolt wondered. The guards looked a little shocked and put off, but nonetheless they obeyed the Queen’s orders and pulled open the gate. Just as Bolt thought, directly behind it was Thorn, along with Smolder and Rose.

“Welcome, Keeper. And you too, Bolt. Please follow me.”

They followed Thorn and Smolder through a courtyard filled with SandWings milling about. In the center of the courtyard was a big obelisk with words in what apparently was the Dragon written language. Unfortunately it seemed that Bolt’s translator didn’t work on the written word, so Bolt couldn’t understand the writing.

“What’s that?” Bolt asked Thorn while pointing at the monument.

She jumped a little at the sound of his voice, as if she still wasn’t quite used to a “talking” human yet. “That’s Oasis’s grave,” she replied, “Our previous queen’s resting place.”

_The one that humans killed,_ Bolt thought, _Hopefully no one around here has any hard feelings about that._

They continued walking up to a gigantic building. Bolt marveled at the sheer size of it. He could fit the entirety of Outpost Village in there and still have enough room to squeeze in Talisman! It would take a team of hundreds of humans _decades_ to build something like this, though he could imagine these dragons doing it in a fraction of the time.

“How long has this palace been here?” Bolt asked.

“You’re certainly a curious one,” Smolder commented, “Is that another endearing scavenger trait?”

Thorn glared at Smolder and answered his question. “It’s said the SandWing stronghold has stood for thousands of years. Some say it dates all the way back to the Scorching.”

That made sense to Bolt. After all, the maps on Bolt’s WristUnit did show the stronghold on them. He didn’t know exactly when the maps were drawn, but they definitely seemed to be out of date, given that newer settlements like Valor and Possibility were not on it. _Is this thing really from before the Scorching?_ He wondered, _If it is, why does it have things from_ after _the Scorching on it?_ He double-tapped his wrist. On the map were things that couldn’t have existed in the time of humans. Not to mention the “abandoned” dragon castle on the southwestern peninsula was labeled in _past_ tense: Abandon _ed_.

But this was a mystery for another time. They entered the gigantic building and walked into what seemed to be a communal area with a big, ornate, platform at the other end of the room that seemed to resemble a throne for some reason. _Oh, it_ is _a throne,_ he thought.

One of the guards began shouting: “Announcing her majesty Queen Thorn, former prince Smolder, and their esteemed guests, Keeper and Bolt of Possibility!”

All eyes locked onto them. They bowed for the queen, but he could see their eyes weren’t gazing on their monarch. They were all looking at _him._ He swallowed nervously. The last time a human had set foot in this place, their queen died and a war started. _Okay, that’s not entirely true, Rose_ lives _here._

Thorn approached her “throne” and crouched down on it. Smolder and Keeper knelt down. Bolt, realizing the opportunity to show his intelligence, slid off Keeper’s back and he also knelt to Thorn, drawing a few gasps from the surrounding dragons. He looked at Smolder, and saw that Rose was facepalming. _I guess I am kinda showing off,_ Bolt said to himself in his head.

“Rise, my guests,” Thorn said, though her facial expression showed she was restraining laughter. _She must not be used to speaking formally like this._ Bolt got up along with the dragons. Keeper looked down at him and whispered “Nice one, I think you really got to a few of the onlookers.”

“Today,” Thorn announced, “We will be having a feast. All in the palace are welcome to join. In the meantime, I will be giving my guests a tour of the stronghold. You are all dismissed!”

The dragons in the room, save for Smolder, Thorn, and Keeper, left the throne room. Thorn approached Bolt directly. “I was not expecting you to kneel. How thoughtful of you.”

“I know to give respect where it’s due. This is your home, after all. Besides, since I’m technically a resident of Possibility that sort of makes you _my_ queen too.”

Thorn burst out laughing, completely breaking her queenly aura. “Would you look at that! I have a scavenger as a subject! Welcome to the Sand Kingdom, Bolt!”

Bolt giggled along with her, then climbed back onto Keeper. Thorn gestured for the group to follow her. As they proceeded down a corridor, Bolt opened his WristUnit map and found that the map had automatically honed in on his position and was showing a close-up view of the castle from the top down. It only showed the outside, though, and additionally some parts seemed to be missing, such as the big wall surrounding the outside of the castle. Nonetheless, this would be useful if he were dumb enough to get separated from Keeper and become lost.

An arrow popped up pointing to the east, the same shape of arrow as the one that was hovering over the giant dot on the map off the eastern coast of Pyrrhia. _What is so important about that location that the map keeps trying to draw my attention to it?_

Thorn led them down the hall into a chamber with several doors. One of them seemed to have been sealed with bricks.

Thorn noticed both Keeper and Bolt staring at the sealed door and she spoke: “That’s where the entrance to the Weirdling Tower used to sit. It’s gone now, I had it torn down.”

“You mean the place where there were stuffed humans and other things?” Bolt asked.

“Presuming ‘human’ is the same animal as ‘scavenger,’ then yes. The late Princess Burn had many strange creatures in her (Her expression darkened) ‘collection.’”

They continued. Inside a big locked door was a room filled with young SandWings. They took one look at Bolt and lunged, causing Bolt to cry out in alarm, but Keeper raised his wings protectively and they stopped in their tracks. They began to chatter around, going “A scavvie! So cute!” and “What do they taste like?” They quickly left the room at Bolt’s request.

“That was the Wingery,” Thorn said, “It’s where the majority of SandWing young are raised until they are mature enough to ensure they have proper control over their tail barb.”

“What would have happened if I were stung?” Bolt asked Thorn.

“We have a constant supply of brightsting cactus, the antidote to our venom. However, given your size, unfortunately if _you_ were stung there likely wouldn’t be enough time to save you.”

Bolt shivered. He would remember to be _extra_ careful around SandWing tails from now on.

As the group continued their tour, a couple dragons milling about looked at Bolt and sniggered. Amongst their whispering, one could hear “Our plan is a go. We’ll tell the cook to do his thing.” Bolt did not hear this, as they were already out of his translator’s range going down the hall.

An hour later, a servant approached Thorn and told her that the feast was ready. Thorn turned to Bolt and asked: “So, Bolt. What’s your favorite food? What does a scavenger like you enjoy eating the most?”

Bolt was a little caught off guard by this question, but he knew the answer deep in his heart. “I love spiced deer meat. I’ll go to great lengths to obtain it. Once I tracked a buck for an entire day just to sink an arrow into it.”

“Spiced?”

“Yeah, I put little bits of flavorful leaves and herbs onto the meat as it cooks. It makes it taste so much better.”

“Interesting. I’ll have to try that sometime. Oh, that reminds me!” She looked at the servant, who was still standing next to her at a respectful distance. “The kitchen-master _did_ remember to ‘cook’ Bolt’s food, right? Winter the IceWing tells me that scavengers can’t have raw meat; it makes them very sick.”

“I will relay your instructions to him,” The servant said, implying that the “chef” had indeed forgotten to cook Bolt’s serving in the feast.

Bolt could imagine that the dragon responsible for preparing the feast was probably not happy about having to modify his recipes for consumption by a non-dragon species. He had a sudden, fearful thought that the dragons in this feast were going to be eating humans right in front of him as part of the festivities, but Bolt banished the thought. He knew deep down that Thorn would never do something that disrespectful to him.

“Well, it’s almost time to head down to the Great Hall. Oh, and Bolt? Tell Flower we’ve made a serving of the feast for her too.”

Bolt got off Keeper’s back and approached Rose who was still astride Smolder’s neck. “Uhh, the queen tells me that she wants you to participate in the feast she’s having.”

Rose dropped off of Smolder and looked him dead in the eye. “You’ve got some serious power, young man. What’s your game, anyway? You’ve only been with dragons for less than a week and already they’re treating you like royalty. Do you have some secret mind-control powers or something?”

“No, I don’t think so. Only thing I can do is speak into their heads. We can talk to each other specifically because to them, I’m speaking _their_ language, and to me, they’re speaking _my_ language. It has something to do with the ancient machines my dad bestowed on me. I don’t know how it works. Dad called it ‘nanotechnology,’ whatever that means. As for the dragons treating me like this, I guess I’m just really charismatic. I always was good with haggling prices at Safe Harbor’s shops.”

“So what’s your plan in life then? What do you want to be when you’re finished growing up?”

“I want to establish peace between humans and dragons.”

“Pretty lofty goal there. But a noble one nonetheless. Try not to get eaten, please? I’d hate to see someone as wonderful as you disappear down a dragon’s gullet.”

-The SandWing Great Hall-

A gigantic long table was laid out across the biggest indoor space Bolt had ever been in. Laid on top of it was the most bountiful feast he had ever seen; enough food to feed the Indestructible City for a whole year, if not more. He squinted and saw that a small section of the table in the corner was laid out with a small mat, on which were offerings of food much smaller than what the dragons would be eating. He could tell that this was going to be a good lunch, there was so much food here for him and Rose that he felt he might not be able to eat all of it. He was, after all, geared for survival in the wilderness, and there had been times he had gone without food for several days.

Keeper picked up Bolt and set him down on the mat, while Smolder did the same with Rose. She looked at the food here and then at Bolt. “I have to say, I’m really starting to like you, Bolt. Usually Smolder just feeds me scraps.”

Bolt blushed a little. _Don’t you dare develop a crush on her,_ Bolt scolded himself, _She’s way older than you. Still though, it’s nice having a human friend among all these dragons._

More dragons from across the palace settled into the Great Hall, many taking notice of the two humans sitting on the table. _Hopefully none of them mistake us as part of the feast,_ Bolt thought with mild terror. Thankfully, Keeper and Smolder sat on either side of them, seemingly positioned specifically to protect Bolt and Rose from that exact occurrence.

Queen Thorn sat down at the edge of the table, and looked out over it at her subjects. She looked at Bolt and Rose, and waved her right forelimb at them. Bolt thought that was very sweet of her, since it seemed that dragons did not use waving as a form of greeting, that it was a uniquely human gesture.

“Did she pick that up from you?” Bolt asked Rose.

“Seems like it,” Rose replied.

Both of them waved back at Thorn, and she smiled. Bolt saw Cereus off to the side laugh lovingly at this exchange; he bet that every dragon surrounding her would be hearing so much from that guard about how adorable it was that the queen and the two “scavvies” had interacted this way.

Still though, he wondered how he had managed to turn over the SandWings’ perception of humans this fast. Considering that humans had not treated the tribe so well in the past, it was frankly shocking that most of the Desert Dragons he met were so friendly towards Bolt. Sure, there were a few of them that would treat him like an animal, or worse, as a meal, but he wasn’t expecting the majority of them to place humans on equal footing right after he opened his mouth to them. _Perhaps a lot of them had suspicions that we were intelligent, but didn’t have definite proof until I showed up._

“Greetings, fellow SandWings,” Announced Thorn, “And also to our guests over there in the corner. I hope you all find this feast to your satisfaction.”

Bolt looked at his food. It was all meat, which Bolt figured was because the dragons here in the stronghold only really ate animals, and wouldn’t have any fruits or vegetables on hand for him to eat. He couldn’t recognize what meat exactly was on his plate, but he could tell that it had been well-cooked, probably from a direct flame emitted from a dragon’s mouth. He began to salivate hungrily, but he respectfully waited for Thorn to finish speaking.

Thorn continued her speech, which seemed to take on a tone of peace in the kingdom. She mentioned a former ruler named Burn who was a cruel tyrant, and how the SandWing tribe would stand for peace and justice under Thorn’s rule in contrast to those dark times during the war. Bolt looked at Rose. She had lived in the stronghold during “Burn’s” rule, and he could guess she had many close scrapes with death during those times. Smolder had probably fought tooth and claw to ensure her safety from many of the same dragons who were now sharing their meal with them in this room. It seemed amazing how much a person could change simply from having a change in leadership.

The speech concluded, and the dragons in the room stomped in unison, which Bolt figured must have been a dragon’s form of applause. Bolt relayed the summary of Thorn’s speech to Rose.

“I agree,” She said when he was finished, “Despite not being able to understand them, I could tell that life under the old ruler was hard. Not to mention that _I_ had to really watch where I stepped. A lot of dragons back then were probably still sour about what my brother did to their queen. A lot of them avoided me like I was some plague, some others threatened me if I got too close.”

“Did any of them try to eat you?”

“Several times… Smolder was always there to bail me out, though. He sliced a guard’s neck clean open once when he was about to bite me. Rather gruesome, but it felt nice that at least one of them would kill for me. So anyway, what was your first word to your dragon? When did you figure out you could communicate with them?”  
  
"Well, there was a lot going on, I think I screamed 'put me down?' It was a bit of a blur at the time, since I thought he was going to eat me and everything."

Rose giggled. “I was about the same way when Smolder dug me out of the sand.”

The dragons began to tear into their food, and seeing that the feast had started, Bolt and Rose also began to eat. Bolt grabbed a chunk of meat in both hands and bit into it. He was delighted with the flavor. It was cooked to perfection, too, which surprised Bolt given that dragons didn’t usually have any experience with cooking food, they always ate their food raw, or even alive. The terrible image of his mother’s head being bitten off flashed in his mind.

He continued eating until it felt like he would burst. Then a servant approached Bolt with a human-sized cup carved out of wood, probably made for Rose by the servants who were responsible for feeding her, or possibly Rose herself. He delicately placed the tiny cup on the table, and walked off without speaking. Bolt looked in the cup. It was a milky liquid, probably some traditional SandWing beverage. He took a sip of it.

Bolt nearly spit out the beverage out of disgust. It tasted _horrible._ But he was extremely thirsty, so he continued drinking, trying to ignore the taste, until the little wooden cup was empty.

That was when a SandWing dragonet approached him. Bolt became nervous, because of his experience with dragonets earlier that day, but this one seemed reasonable, and his stinger was coiled up safely like the adults’ were, so he decided he was going to give this one the benefit of the doubt.

“Hello. What’s your name?” Bolt asked the dragonet.

The dragonet jumped, startled, at the sound of his voice, and Bolt felt a little guilty for scaring the child like that, but the dragonet responded with “Grain.”

“Hello, Grain. My name is Bolt.”

The SandWing dragonet looked a little nervous. _Look, buddy, I’m more scared of you then you are of me,_ Bolt thought.

"My caretaker says that scavengers are mindless animals that do nothing but kill dragons and steal our treasure."

Bolt had a disturbed look in his eyes. _That's really what they're teaching their children!?_ He thought, _No wonder so many of them hate us._ He thought carefully of a reply.

"Well, Grain, I'm pleased to inform you that we are _not_ like that. We're just like you, we have hopes, dreams, fears. The difference being that in the fear department, dragons make up a huge portion of what we're scared of."

"If you're so scared of us, why do you live with a dragon?"

"Well, it's complicated. Keeper _kinda_ captured me against my will, but when he figured out I can talk to dragons, he decided to have me not as a pet, but as a friend. Yes, I'm _very_ scared of dragons. _Terrified_ , in fact. But I'm also really brave. I'm able to push the fear to the back of my mind so it doesn't bother me as much."

"You talk really well. You must be really smart."

"Thank you, Grain! That's really kind of you!" _Maybe this whole "peace" thing won't be so hard._

Grain lumbered off to some of his friends at the edge of the room, saying, “Look, guys, I talked to him!,” getting some reassuring wing-brushes from the others.

_Then Bolt started feeling funny..._

-Keeper-

“So are there any cute things Bolt does?” Asked a SandWing named Brightsting, who was sitting next to Keeper. “Anything so scavenger-like that it makes you love him to death?”

Keeper gestured to his friend. "Bolt looks positively ADORABLE when he cries. He does this thing with his eyes where his pupils get huge and he becomes so utterly irresistible that it practically qualifies as a defense mechanism against dragons! He could stop a hungry dragon dead in his tracks with that look! I mean, who could possibly be so heartless as to eat someone that cute, that vulnerable-looking?"

Bolt looked very offended. "I don't like the way you're describing me, and I hate it when I cry! It feels absolutely terrible! All those bad memories... All the horrible things that happened to me... They all fill my head and it completely incapacitates me!" Keeper noticed Bolt’s speech had a slurred quality to it. _Perhaps his telepathy is being affected by his emotions?_

Bolt’s face turned red all of a sudden. _He’s getting angry about this? This is a bit of a sudden mood change for him._ He then noticed that Bolt’s eyes also had a slight red tinge to them, and he was wobbling slightly despite the fact that he was sitting down. _Uh-oh._

“Bolt? You OK?”

Rose looked at Bolt and she began to look very concerned. She squeaked at Bolt, seemingly trying to see what was wrong.

“F-fine? Yes, I’m fine, Rose. Never been better!” A loud squeak (A hiccup) escaped Bolt’s lips.

The other dragons were starting to notice Bolt’s behavior. A few of them giggled. Keeper looked at Bolt’s food and saw a human-sized cup that hadn’t been there when the feast started. _WHO DID THIS,_ Keeper growled in his head. He would worry about that later though, for now he had to deal with a scavenger who was becoming increasingly off his rocker.

“Bolt? I think we should go home.”

"Oh, okay, then, I'll g-go home to my village.”

He stood up, with none of the precise balance humans usually had, and suddenly shouted loudly, his voice slurred almost past recognition:

“Oh no, wait a minute! I completely forgot! There IS no village! You guys BURNED it!" He then started laughing uncontrollably, and suddenly, the human dropped to the floor in a dead faint.

“Bolt!” Yelled Keeper. Smolder looked very worried as well. Thorn stood up from her end of the table and dashed towards them.

Rose screamed as Bolt collapsed onto the plate right in front of her, looking up at Keeper and frantically chattering as if asking him “What the heck happened to him!?” Which happened to be what she _was_ saying at that moment.

Thorn reached their end of the table. “What happened to Bolt? He was so personable just a moment ago!”

Keeper jabbed a talon at the cup. “Whose idea was it to give Bolt _that!?_ ”

Thorn took one look at the empty cup and went “Oh dear.” She raised her neck and loudly cried out: “WHO GAVE BOLT THAT DRINK!?”

The great hall went silent.

“Just curious, what drink _was_ that?” Keeper asked.

She picked up the cup and sniffed it. “High-end SandWing Arak, vintage from our storeroom. It’s _very_ strong. We need to get Bolt to the infirmary; I’m not sure if his body can take that level of alcohol.”

A SandWing guard with a guilty expression approached the Queen. “It was me, your majesty.”

She looked at the guard furiously. “What in the blazing sun and glowing moons would give you the idea to feed that little scavenger our most powerful alcoholic beverage!?”

“It was a prank… I thought it was a prank! We wanted to do something harmless to him as revenge for Queen Oasis! I thought the little guy would just start acting funny and that was it, I wasn’t expecting him to pass out!”

“A harmless prank!?” Keeper growled at the guard, “You may have just POISONED him!”

The guard shrunk back. “To be honest, my friend’s idea was much worse.”

“What could possibly be worse than _this!?_ ” Shouted Queen Thorn.

The guard looked extremely reluctant to say the next thing that came out of his mouth. “W-we were going to catch and kill a wild scavenger and cook it for his meal, in such a way that he wouldn’t recognize it.”

Thorn, Smolder, Keeper, and some of the surrounding dragons looked absolutely horrorstruck. Keeper’s wings shivered with sheer revulsion. His next words were spoken in a dread whisper. “You were going to serve this human the flesh of _his own kind!?!?”_

“I think this goes without saying,” Thorn said, “But you’re relieved of duty. And so is your ‘friend.’ You can report to your barracks until I can figure out a fitting punishment.”

“Yes, your majesty.” The former guard slunk out of the Great Hall.

“As I said, we need to get Bolt to the infirmary.” Thorn declared. “Everyone can continue eating! I will return soon.”

\--------------------------------

Keeper held a limp Bolt in his talons as he and Thorn sped down the hall towards a white door, and they burst in. Inside was a dragon-sized examination table along with many medicines in cabinets along the walls. Keeper laid Bolt down on the table.

“What can we do about this!?” Keeper exclaimed, “It’s not like there’s some miracle cure for alcohol poisoning!”

“We’ll just have to observe Bolt and hope he eventually recovers.” Thorn said. “I’ll stay with you and ensure he does. She looked down at the floor, then at Keeper. “I’m so sorry about this. I had no idea the guards had something this _horrible_ planned for your friend.”

“I’m not sure what would have been worse; this, or Bolt having to live with the _horror_ that he ate another of his kind, _especially_ after what happened to his parents. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he knew that. Which is why I’m not telling him.”

“Why? He didn’t actually eat another scavenger. I checked his plate; that was _definitely_ beef he was eating.”

“The mere idea of it would probably scar him. To eat a fellow human, when two people he loved dearly suffered a similar fate, it would tear him to pieces. He’d never trust a dragon again.”

Thorn’s wings trembled, “I hope he hasn’t _already_ lost trust in us…”

……………………………………….

After ten minutes of staring at Bolt’s unconscious body, suddenly the human began to violently cough, his whole body arching and contracting.

“He’s about to throw up, get that scarf off of him!” Thorn shouted.

Keeper gently grabbed Bolt’s scarf, and out of respect for Bolt’s face-visibility vow, both him and the Queen looked away as he pulled the scarf down. Keeper turned Bolt on his side and immediately he spewed his recent meal, and hopefully most of the Arak he drank, out onto the table. He continued vomiting even after his stomach was emptied, dry-heaving for half a minute until he finally settled down. He still remained unconscious. Keeper blindly wiped Bolt’s mouth with the scarf and replaced it over his nose.

\-----------------------------

It took a whole hour for Bolt to regain consciousness. He wearily gazed upon the two dragons staring with a concerned look at him. He looked down at his side and saw the puddle of vomit next to him. “W...What happened?” He shakily asked.

“That drink one of my guards served you was extremely alcoholic, and was likely poisoning your body.” Thorn said, “Please accept my heartfelt apology.”

“What’s ‘alcoholic’ mean?”

_He’s seriously never heard of alcohol before?_ Keeper wondered, _He’s more innocent than I thought he was._

Thorn looked like she was struggling to come up with an explanation. “It’s a type of beverage that some dragons like to drink. If you have too much of it, it makes your mind and body run wild. Unfortunately, the alcohol the guard gave you was very strong, and it would have killed you if your stomach hadn’t rejected it.”

“Oh…” Was all Bolt had to say.

“If it’s okay with you,” Keeper said, “I’d like to take Bolt home.”

“Please do,” Thorn replied, “And come back anytime. My doors will always be open to you and Bolt. I owe it to you after what my guards did to your friend.”

\--------------------------------

Keeper solemnly left the palace. With Bolt in a half-conscious state he was in no condition to ride a dragon. He held Bolt gently in his talons, wary of another dry-heaving episode, and he slowly took off out of the palace gate and flew back towards Possibility.

-Keeper’s Home-

Keeper laid Bolt in his little bed, and placed a glass of fresh water next to him on the shelf in case he needed to have a drink. Bolt had fallen asleep in his talons on the flight home, which wasn’t a good sign given how Bolt felt about being held in a dragon’s talons.

“This day went terribly,” Keeper said to himself, “I never should have allowed Bolt to set foot in there. I just _knew_ that _someone_ would try to hurt him!” Then he realized that not everything today went badly. Most of the dragons in the stronghold loved Bolt. It was only two guards and a room full of untrained dragonets that had actually tried to hurt him.

Keeper sighed. Bolt’s eyes fluttered and opened slightly, a light exhalation escaping his covered lips.

“Keeper?” He whispered groggily.

“Yes, Bolt?”

“Thanks for helping me back there.” And he immediately fell back into sleep.

A tear fell from Keeper’s eye. That was when he knew… He loved Bolt. He loved Bolt like he was one of his own dragonets. And he would protect the little man with his life.

………………………………………...

He didn’t know that a few days later, it would be Bolt that would save _his_ life, soon after the day that Keeper’s front door got kicked down and a team of SkyWings burst in to take the young SandWing away.


	9. Heritage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keeper is kidnapped by SkyWings.
> 
> Bolt, with nowhere else to go, embarks on a journey to discover his purpose.
> 
> What he finds... Will upend everything he knows about his village, his family, and himself.
> 
> It is time for Bolt to step into his destiny.

Chapter Nine: Heritage

-One week after the incident at the SandWing Stronghold-

-Keeper-

A loud BANG shook the door to Keeper’s shop. It didn’t take Keeper long to figure out what had caused it. Someone was trying to break into the shop… And he knew who. _It’s time,_ he grimly thought. He quickly turned his head to Bolt’s room, where the human was resting, but awake.

“Bolt, HIDE!!” He shouted in Scavenger at him, very thankful that Bolt had taught him a few key phrases of his native language over the past few days, since it would only be understood between the two of them.

BANG!!

-Bolt-

Bolt’s heart stopped when he heard the colossal BANG at the door, followed by Keeper telling him to hide, in Bolt’s own tongue, no less. He’d be proud of how fast the dragon had caught on if he weren’t so scared. He grabbed his backpack, not knowing why, maybe he’d feel safer with it on him, and he slid quickly down the ladder to the floor, panting with panic.

BANG!!

Bolt scurried to a special place he had prepared for this exact situation: his own personal safety shelter, dug out of the floor underneath the bottom shelf. Among the various odds and ends here he would be very well camouflaged. Bolt pried open the hatch he had made out of a dragon’s jar cap and jumped into his shelter. He latched the hatch shut, and just then…

CRACK!!

The front door broke, and in rushed some dragons… As for what tribe they were, Bolt couldn’t tell… He was blind down here.

He heard Keeper nervously greet the dragons.

“H-hello, SkyWings… How can I help you…?”

Bolt had never heard Keeper so scared before. This in turn scared him. _Who are these dragons… And what are they going to do to Keeper??_

One of the SkyWings, (Thanks, Keeper, for the helpful commentary) started talking. Something about the dragon’s natural, pre-translation voice seemed familiar….

_Bolt’s blood ran cold._

_He would know that growl anywhere._

_It was_ HIM.

_The dragon that had haunted his nightmares for the majority of his life._

“Hello, Crimson. H-how nice of you to show up personally!”

_Crimson. That MONSTER’S name is Crimson._

“You know why I am here, _Keeper._ ” Both his draconic growls and his English mental voice oozed darkness and despair to anyone who heard it. Bolt had no doubt that this dragon had made many poor souls, both human _and_ dragon, suffer horribly.

“It’s time to pay up. I’ve been reasonable, but your debt to me has gone on far too long. I _do_ have to maintain profitability, you know.”

“I… I…”

Keeper was broke. That much Bolt knew, despite the fact that the SandWing was always so reluctant to talk finances with him. His friend was in deep trouble. _Deep_ trouble.

“Well if you have no gold, then I’m afraid I will have to… Liquidate some stock.” His focus shifted from Keeper to his henchmen, how many of them were there? “Take everything he has!!”

Loud crashing noises everywhere. These ruffians were ransacking Keeper’s shop! Some stomping noises drew closer.

“Well, what do we have here??” A SkyWing voice sounded. “Got a little pest problem, Keeper?”

_OH NO._

Bolt shrunk back to the furthest corner of his shelter. _Pleasedon’tfindmePleasedon’tfindme--_ Bolt chanted in his head.

“NO!!” Keeper shouted from the main shop room. “Take anything you want, just DON’T HURT HIM!!”

Crimson gave out an earth-shaking roar, silencing Keeper. Afterwards he growled lion-like at him. His next words came slithering out of his mouth, laced with poison.

“You’ve grown soft, little dragonet. Now what’s going to happen to your little pet if you’re not around to take care of it anymore, hmm?”

“No…” Keeper gasped.

“TAKE HIM AWAY!” Crimson roared, “TAKE HIM TO MY MANSION!”

“NO!!”

Signs of a struggle. He heard a pot get knocked over and break on the floor. Bolt held his hands up to his scarf-clad mouth, trying desperately not to scream. Any sound coming from him and these monsters would find him, and it would all be over. Vivid flashbacks of THAT DAY eleven years ago whirled in his head.

The SkyWing in Bolt’s room scraped around on his shelf. He heard wood splintering; that must have been his bed breaking. Eventually the scraping stopped.

“Heh, his scavvie’s not here,” he called out to Crimson.

“Forget it,” Crimson replied, “We got who we came here for.”

The henchdragon stomped out of the room. He didn’t hear Keeper struggling anymore, so he presumed the SkyWings had knocked him out. He heard wingflaps from outside, and it was over…

……………………………………………………………………….

Reinstating his thirty-minute policy from eleven years ago, Bolt tensely waited. Everything was silent.

After his safety buffer had passed, Bolt opened the hatch…

Or tried to. The hatch wouldn’t budge. Something was sitting on top of the hatch!!

“Oh no. Nonononono. This is _worse_ than getting eaten! I’m _trapped!!_ ”

It was a very bad time for Bolt to figure out he was claustrophobic.

He gave into panic, slamming his entire body weight up against the hatch. It did no good.

“Oh, God!” Bolt cried, digging up a strange word he had once picked up from his uncle somewhere, “I’m gonna _die_ down here!”

He no longer cared if any dragons in the area were friend or foe. He was getting out of here _no matter what,_ even if it meant he’d be going straight from his underground prison to the inside of a dragon’s stomach. “SOMEONE!! HELP!!!!!” He cried at the top of his voice. He repeated himself every few seconds.

-Fen the MudWing-

Fen saw the commotion coming from Keeper’s shop. _Is he having a big sale or something?_

His heart skipped a beat when he saw Keeper’s limp body being dragged out of his own home by a team of three SkyWings. He felt like fighting them off and saving him, but then he saw something that stopped him dead in his tracks. The lead SkyWing had a melty scar on his chest. Everyone knew that scar. A scavenger with a magic weapon had given him that scar just before it was eaten by him. This was Crimson, the legendary SkyWing crime boss!

Fen dashed for cover, hiding behind a big crate. The dragons took off towards the east carrying Keeper. When he was certain he was safe, he came out from behind the crate and stared at the shop. He didn’t know what to do.

-Thirty minutes later-

Fen had made a circuit around the town when he circled back to Keeper’s house. He kept coming back here, not knowing why. That’s when he remembered Keeper’s talking scavenger friend. The one that had been so kind to him, even though his peppers did hurt. _I hope Bolt’s safe…_ He thought.

_Somebody HELP!!_ Bolt’s voice screamed in his head, red-hot with panic.

As it turned out, Bolt’s telepathy could carry over some serious distance in a pinch. Relative to how loud his real voice was, and also his emotional state, Bolt could make his mental translation transmit up to a mile if he was screaming at his top level. Which meant every dragon in the neighborhood heard Bolt’s cry for help to some extent.

Fen was nearest, though, and he dashed into the building, keeping his ears peeled for any squeaky scavenger sounds. It didn’t take long for him to hone in on Bolt’s natural voice pouring out from… The floor? He walked into the storage room and tried to make sense of where the scavvie’s voice was coming from.

“Bolt?” He said in a confused tone of voice, “Where are you?”

More squeaking from beneath the shelving, which translated to: “I’m underneath a jar lid, there’s something blocking me from getting out, _please_ hurry! I’m really scared of enclosed spaces!”

_Poor thing’s terrified,_ Commented Fen in his head, _I’d be if I were in his skin right now._

He looked for anything on the floor resembling a lid. There were some small boxes, some of which had been torn open and shoved around. He moved some boxes aside and found there was a large metal lid laying flat on the ground underneath one of the boxes. He tried moving it but for some reason it wouldn’t move an inch.

Then he heard a little scratching sound come from under the lid, and it pivoted upward like a door… And out popped Bolt’s cute golden head. He had never seen a scavenger look so relieved to see a dragon.

“Thank you _so_ much!” Bolt said, “I thought I was going to die down there!”

_Kinda melodramatic,_ Fen thought, _He couldn’t have been down there that long. Still though, how clever of him to have a little scavvie-hole to hide himself in! I know! I’ll dig myself a hidey-hole when I get home! Don’t know what I’d be hiding from, but it’d be fun!_

-Bolt-

Bolt came the rest of the way out of the shelter, overwhelmed with relief at being free from that deep, dark pit. He hoped he’d _never_ have to do that again. He looked up at his savior, recognizing him as the MudWing he had accidentally burned with his chiles a while back.

“Fen, you have to help me! Some SkyWings took Keeper away; we have to go rescue him!”

Fen looked very nervous all of a sudden. “Well, I would, but my… Garden is on fire. I gotta go!” Fen ran out of the shop.

Bolt looked unamused. “That’s the lamest excuse I’ve ever heard. If you’re going to dip out on me, at least come up with a better reason.”

Bolt set his backpack down next to the hatch and clipped his knife to his belt. Then he rushed out of the house. Fen was not going to be of any help, but that was fine. He had an entire town full of dragons to choose from. _Someone_ would help him, he knew it! Bolt’s unfailing optimism had gotten him through many tough spots in his life. It would take much more than his current situation to break his spirit.

He ran through the streets, drawing several looks from the SandWings milling about.

“It’s Bolt,” One of them said, “Poor thing lost his owner. What’s he going to do now?”

_How many times do I have to tell these people I belong to NO ONE!?_ Bolt screamed in his head.

A small dragonet flapped his wings playfully as he sprinted past, going “Go, scavvie, go!”

He reached the plaza where Sienna had almost eaten him more than a week ago. He found the pair of dragons who had been fighting then. The necklace was now on the other dragon, though, it had been returned to its rightful owner, and the two dragons had made up.

Bolt placed himself between them. Never in a hundred years did he think he’d _ever_ be running up to a bunch of dragons with only his knife to defend him if anything went wrong. He decided to try making his big-eyed “cute” face that according to Keeper could supposedly make him impossible to say no to.

“Please, please help me! Keeper’s been taken away!”

The dragon on the right looked shocked. “Oh no, Keeper!? Who took him!?”

“A SkyWing named Crimson!”

Instantly every SandWing in the square stopped what they were doing and looked with scared faces at Bolt.

“I’m sorry, Bolt. He’s gone. There’s nothing we can do.”

“What do you mean!? We _have_ to save him!”

Hearing Crimson’s name obviously terrified them. "No. We can't. We just can't."

"Why not!?" Bolt shouted angrily. He was trying his luck by being snippy with these dragons, but he didn't care. His friend's life was on the line.

They didn't reply. They fearfully turned around and fled.

And so did everyone else in the plaza. They all ran into their houses and locked their doors.

Bolt stood in the middle of the plaza, looking very small and alone. “Could you at least TELL ME where this guy _lives!?”_

An elderly SandWing walked towards him. “Approaching Crimson’s home would be suicide, young scavenger. Especially for you. But if your resolve in protecting your friend is this strong… Then I see little chance of changing your mind.”

He pulled a map of Pyrrhia out of a satchel on his shoulder. He pointed to a spot north of the SkyWing palace.

“Crimson’s mansion lies here. I’d tell you good luck… But I’m afraid no amount of luck will help you there.” He strolled away.

Bolt sprinted back towards Keeper’s shop. _I’m coming Keeper. I’m coming to sav-- WHAT AM I DOING!?_

A debilitating wave of common sense washed over Bolt. The old SandWing was right, there was no WAY he’d survive a single minute in Crimson’s mansion. Keeper wouldn’t want his friend to throw himself to the wolves in his name.

He walked into Keeper’s shop. It was dark in there, all the torches had been extinguished, the only light was coming in from the shattered front door.

Bolt's WristUnit flashed. "Ugh, what _now,_ ancestors?"

"New audio-visual message from Darter [MissingLastName]. Message priority set as 'Urgent.' Would you like me to play it for you?"

Once Bolt was certain he was truly alone, he replied "Yes."

Just like before, a tiny recreation of his father appeared over his wrist. This time he looked closer to the age he was when he was killed. He also looked more... Serious than last time. His words were enunciated clearly, the tone of his voice conveying authority and importance. As if he somehow knew how tense the situation was at this moment.

"In the event I am unable to relay this message in person, I have entrusted this WristUnit to play it to you on a specific date." He looked up right where Bolt's eyes were, which was somewhat shocking given that this was a recording and he couldn't possibly know where he was looking.

"Bolt, there is so much you don't know about your heritage. So much that I fear I may not be able to show you during my lifetime."

His next words gave Bolt chills.

"Come back home, Bolt. There's something I want to show you... Deep beneath our forest home."

The message ended, and the WristUnit's map popped up on its own. Highlighted in yellow was the location where Outpost Village once stood.

Bolt was more conflicted than he had ever been before. His friend had been captured and there was no telling what they were doing to him. After all Keeper had done for him it would be the ultimate betrayal to abandon him now.

But what could he do? He was a little human in a dragon's world. And it was clear that no dragons would help him; these SkyWings were simply too powerful, too much of an authority. He doubted even Thorn would risk starting a war with the SkyWings by saving Keeper.

"What am I going to do...?" Bolt quietly asked himself. He looked around the ruined room. The home he had called his own with Keeper was in shambles now. He couldn't stay here. Without Keeper to protect him, he would be free game for any hungry dragon in Possibility to waltz in and feast on.

So he dejectedly packed his bag. His heart broken, knowing that he was betraying his best friend by doing this, he strapped his backpack over his shoulders... And walked out the busted door into the streets of Possibility.

Several minutes down the road Sienna jumped out at him, her teeth bared. Bolt stood his ground furiously and drew his knife. With a look of pure, unadulterated _fury_ he stared the dragon dead in the face, the sheer rage in his eyes stopping her right there.

"NOT TODAY!!" Bolt screamed at Sienna, "I've had ENOUGH happen to me today, I don't need a big, scaly IDIOT like you ruining my day even more!"

As he strolled straight past a dumbfounded Sienna towards the east, some other dragons in the background looked shocked at the fact that the little scavenger had completely disarmed a fully grown SandWing with only a glare and a shout. Nobody else bothered him on his way out.

_Goodbye, Possibility._ Bolt thought. _I’m going to go follow my destiny, or at least whatever dad has in store for me._

\-----------------------------------------------------------

He journeyed hard across the landscape. He was in his element, surviving on his own once again, with nothing but the contents of his backpack to help him.

Only this time… He had to live with the crushing guilt that he was leaving his friend to die.

To get back to Outpost Village, or more accurately Outpost Ash-Pile, he would have to traverse the majority of Pyrrhia’s width, not to mention cross the mountains at the center of the continent. He’d done it before, but honestly, he had grown spoiled with having a dragon to ride everywhere on. It was jarring having to go back to taking days-long journeys to get anywhere.

His first obstacle was the mountains. From where he stood currently he could see the peak he had climbed just before meeting Keeper. He deliberately avoided it. The last thing he needed was to be reminded of him.

He could see Jade Mountain in the distance. He had heard that there was an inter-tribe school headed by some very famous dragons located there. What were they called again? Baby Dragons of Peace? Dragon Kids of Prophecy? Maybe someday he could sneak a peek in there and meet them himself. Provided the dragons there were friendly to humans like him.

He decided to take a path to the north, which would lead him to a mountain pass where it would be easier for him to get over the range, and spit him out near Talisman and Sanctuary. Before he could reach the pass, the Sun began to set, and Bolt, who was beginning to get hungry, decided to set up camp.

He picked a spot near a cave set into the base of a mountain. The cave was too small for a dragon to enter, meaning it would be perfect for Bolt to escape into if he were attacked by a dragon. He pitched his tent and broke out his cooking pot, and lit a fire. After pulling the last of his peppers and an onion out of his backpack, (Hopefully they were still good) he dropped them into his pot, which he had filled with water from a small nearby pond. It wouldn’t be a very hearty meal, but at least it would stop his stomach from grumbling.

After the vegetables were cooked, Bolt poured the “stew” into a bowl, and ate next to his fire as the Sun dropped below the western horizon. He was totally alone out here, which he felt was fitting for him. He didn’t deserve to have another friend after what he did, or didn’t do, for Keeper. With the Moons visible overhead, and the crackling fire in front of him, he should have felt at peace, but every time he tried to relax, Keeper’s face popped up in his head and brought him right back into his depression.

Finally... He couldn't take it anymore.

“GRAAAHHH!!!” Bolt screamed, and he threw his bowl to the ground, scattering peppers and hot water all over the ground. There was no way he could go on living like this, knowing Keeper was in pain somewhere, and here he was scurrying off into the shadows to save his own skin.

He tried using his logic excuse, “Keeper wouldn’t want you to put yourself into an impossible situation for his sake.” It didn’t work. He still felt _terrible._

He wished with all his heart, with everything he had, that he could find some magical sword stuck in a rock somewhere that would make him the King of Everything and that would let him turn Crimson and his horrible SkyWing lackies into big piles of terrible, parent-eating dust. Then he could rescue Keeper and live happily with him for the rest of their lives.

_Grrrrrr…._

Bolt’s heart sank. _WHAT WAS THAT!?_

He heard big footsteps coming from the cave near him. Too small to be a dragon’s talonsteps. Too big to be something safe like a bunny or a deer. Also deer and bunnies didn’t live in caves. _Bears_ did. He felt the scars on his back tingle.

Bolt drew his knife, gathering all his courage. He had endured living in a town full of man-eating reptiles, he would _not_ be killed by something as mundane as a BEAR.

Out stepped the bear. It was a big grizzly, with heavy brown fur and tons of muscle. Bolt had infringed on his territory, and now he was going to try and kill him for daring to do so. Bolt was ready.

The bear stalked around the entrance of his cave, growling in a low voice. Bolt held his knife out in front of him, pacing at a safe distance from the animal, sizing him up for weak points. He noticed that the bear had a large, singed bald spot on his back. A singed bald spot could only mean one thing: this bear was the survivor of a dragon attack. He had taken flames on his body and came out alive.

_Alright, bear. We have something in common._

The bear charged him, and Bolt let out a primal cry and dashed the bear head-on, his sharp, serrated knife gleaming in the moonlight. The bear slashed at Bolt with razor-sharp claws, but Bolt dodged fluidly and jabbed his blade deep into the creature’s snout. Blood poured out, and the bear let out a pained cry and stumbled back a bit. Bolt took the chance and quickly hopped onto the bear’s back.

As he repeatedly stabbed the bear’s hide, the bear bucked up and down, trying to shake him off.

“I AM BOLT THE ENDURING!” Bolt screamed at the bear, “AND I’M _NOT_ GOING TO BE KILLED BY THE LIKES OF YOU!!”

Unfortunately, the bear had other ideas. With a single, super-powered thrust, he catapulted Bolt off of his back, and the young man flew forward over the bear’s head and crashed hard into his tent, causing the structure to collapse, and his knife flew out of his hand and embedded itself in the dirt out of his reach.

The grizzly charged him once more, the blood pouring out of his nose making the creature look like something straight out of a nightmare. Bolt closed his eyes, preparing for the claws and teeth to rip him to shreds.

He heard a resounding CRASH, followed by the bear crying out in pain and surprise . Bolt opened his eyes, and promptly couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

A pale-scaled SkyWing was pressing the grizzly bear hard into the ground, a look of protective fury on his face. In the background he could see a human girl cheering him on.

Wren and Sky had come to his rescue.

“Are you okay, Bolt??” Sky called to him in English, turning his head to look at the disbelieving human.

“Better now that you’re here,” Bolt panted. He stood up out of his crushed tent.

“You have no idea how lucky you are,” Wren said as she walked up to Bolt. “We were just going for a fly in this area when we saw your campfire, and heard all the roaring and screaming. You were _really_ fighting that thing hard; I’ve never seen a human being take on a bear like that.” She frowned at him accusingly. “You stupid or something? Why under the three Moons would you fight a bear on your own!?” She looked around. “And where’s Keeper!? Wouldn’t _he_ be protecting you from that thing!?”

Bolt was stunned. He desperately thought of an answer. He couldn't bring himself to tell Wren that he had abandoned Keeper to suffer in a SkyWing kingpin’s dungeon. So he lied to her.

“Keeper let me go out camping for a little bit while he accomplishes some business he needed to attend to without me. He’s perfectly fine.”

Wren processed the lie, and thankfully, she accepted it. “You really picked a stupid camping spot,” she said, “Anyone could tell a bear lived in that cave.”

“Speaking of the bear, what’s Mr. Pacifist going to do with that thing?”

Right then, Sky lifted the bear off the ground in both his talons, and he _threw_ him back into his cave.

“And _stay_ there!” Sky shouted at him. Surprisingly, the bear obeyed Sky and didn’t leave the cave. His previous encounter with a dragon had taught him to stay clear of those scaly winged beings.

“Anyway, do you need a lift somewhere?” Wren asked, “Safer camping spot maybe?”

“I’d love that.”

\--------------------------------

Bolt packed up his campsite, thankfully finding that his tent wasn’t damaged at all, just crushed, and he could re-pitch it at his new site. He gathered his things into his backpack and strapped it on his back, then approached Wren and Sky.

“How delightful!” Sky cooed, “I get to have _two_ humans riding me!”

“You sure you can handle me?” Bolt asked Sky, “I’m pretty heavy with this backpack on.”

“I’m a big, _strong_ dragon,” Sky boasted while flexing his wings, “Little humans like you are easy for me to carry!”

Wren laughed with her companion, and she jumped onto Sky’s back and gestured to Bolt to climb on. Bolt unsteadily got onto Sky.

“So, where to?” Wren asked.

Bolt opened his WristUnit map, drawing a shocked shriek from Wren. _Whoops,_ Bolt thought, _I forgot she didn’t know about ol’ Wristy._

“What did you just do with your wrist!?” Wren cried. Sky looked behind his shoulder to see what the hubbub was about.

“It’s a long story, but basically this is a really fancy map my dad had… Inserted into my body.”

“And I thought _my_ family was freaky,” Wren said.

“Anyway, I want to go _here.”_

Bolt pointed at a spot just west of Outpost Village. Close enough to it that he’d be able to go straight in the next morning.

“There? Really? Kind of a weird spot to camp, and it’s kinda far from here. Sky, you up to it? He wants to go to a spot south of the Diamond Spray River.”

“That’s fine with me,” Sky said, “Up we go!”

Sky spread his big wings and took off into the air. Bolt was shocked, Sky was much more of a powerful presence in the air than Keeper was, and he was _much_ faster than him. Bolt held onto Wren’s shoulders tightly to maintain stability, wondering if he should ask Sky to be more gentle and slow. Wren seemed to be used to Sky’s flight behavior, then again, she had raised him, so she knew almost everything about him.

That made Bolt wish Keeper had been more forthcoming about his past. _It would have been nice to know if, oh, I don’t know, you had a debt to the dragon that KILLED MY FAMILY!!_ Bolt wondered _why_ Keeper had entered into a loan with a monster like Crimson. How desperate was he back then that he needed to crawl to _him_ for a favor!?

\---------------------------------------

An hour later, Sky landed in a field near a forest, on the other side of which Bolt knew stood the ruins of Outpost Village. Sky had landed much harder than what Bolt was used to, though, and with a surprised yell he fell off Sky’s back and hit his head on the ground, causing him to see stars for a couple seconds.

“Bolt!” Wren yelled with a concerned tone, “Are you okay?”

Bolt righted himself and adjusted his scarf, then his backpack. “I’m just fine. I’m not used to hard landings like that. Keeper’s much more gentle with me.”

“Sorry,” Sky said, “I’ll be more careful next time.”

“Anyway,” Bolt sighed, “I’ve got some sleeping to do. I’ll see you around.”

Sky readied for takeoff, but Bolt put his hand on Sky’s leg, causing him to stop and look at him.

“Thanks for saving me, Sky. I mean it.”

“No problem, Bolt.” Sky smiled warmly at him, then took off with Wren, flying into the sky.

The place where Sky had deposited him was beautiful beyond words. It was a huge, grassy plain, and above it all was a picturesque field of bright stars. Crickets chirped in the background, completing this tapestry of blissful peace that made Bolt’s heart soar.

“Never mind the tent, I’m sleeping in the open air tonight.”

Bolt set his backpack down next to him, and sat down on the grass. He stared up at the stars, letting them swallow him whole.

_Go to the Star, child!_

He had always wondered what his mother had meant by that. How would one “go” to a star? They’re _way_ up in the air; not even dragons could fly that high!

Bolt lay down on the soft grass. Part of him thought this was a bad idea; he’d be a sitting duck for dragons to swoop down and eat if he slept here. But after all the horrible things that had happened today, this field was the perfect medicine for his ills, a moment of utter natural grace to set his mind at ease once more.

He wished Keeper could be with him to experience this. He wished his parents were alive to see this. All this wonderful nighttime pleasantness, and he had _no one_ to share it with.

Bolt fell asleep among the grandeur of the plain, the stars and moons watching down on him with peaceful glints in their eyes. His slumber would be deep, dreamless, and supremely refreshing.

…………………………………………………………………

-The Next Morning-

Bolt woke up in the field at sunrise, fully energized and ready to take on whatever his day had in store for him. He looked around him. A light breeze was shaking the grass around him, and above him was the pure white orb of the morning Sun, surrounded by fluffy white clouds.

Bolt still felt guilty inside, but the beauty of his current surroundings made him feel determined. Whatever his ancestors, his father, had left for him at home, perhaps it would hold all the answers, all the solutions to his problems. The ancient machinery had already performed a miracle before, with it he had done the impossible and communicated with a dragon. Maybe the magic of his species could save Keeper.

He looked towards the forest at the eastern edge of the field. It was an old growth wood, and had been home to his people for a very long time, at least until the dragons ended the village. He pulled up his WristUnit map. The blue dot indicating his position was inches away from the yellow dot marking his objective. He was almost home.

Bolt stood up, shaking the dew off of his body, and picked up his backpack. He heard an eagle cry out above his head. Thankful that it wasn’t a dragon’s roar he just heard, Bolt set out towards the forest. His footsteps in the grass echoed in his mind. No other sound other than the wind entered his ears.

Soon he reached the edge of the forest, and wasting no time, he entered. A minute of breaking through dense brush later, Bolt stumbled on something achingly familiar. An old trail, beginning to deteriorate with disuse. His heart stirred as an image of his younger self playing in the woods along this trail flashed in his head.

The visions would multiply and pile up as he traversed the trail, walking, no, swimming through memories until the trail opened into a clearing and…

“Destination achieved,” Said Bolt’s WristUnit, “Welcome home, [MissingName].”

It certainly didn’t look like anyone’s home anymore. All the ashes of the homes and people had long since blown away, leaving a desolate landscape punctuated by the charred skeletons of some houses. He could see his father’s safe poking out of the ruins of the storehouse, thankfully not rusted at all even after all these years of standing out exposed to the elements.

Suddenly, a chirp came out of his WristUnit. A curious sound accompanied by a flash of the ring on his wrist.

And then, a chirp in reply, coming from the other side of the ruins.

A chirp from his wrist, a chirp from the ground several yards away.

He had to investigate.

Bolt stepped over fallen branches and broken, burned doors and closed in on the echoing chirps. After passing the safe, he walked into a strangely circular patch of leaves. The chirps came directly from beneath his feet now.

A window manifested on his WristUnit. Bolt held the device up and read the text that appeared.

REMOTE HATCH ACCESS

PRESS [HERE] TO OPEN

“Hatch.” Bolt echoed the words on his WristUnit, “Is this another dragon shelter?”

Bolt tapped the button on his screen.

KA-CHUNK!!!

A loud metallic sound erupted from the ground beneath Bolt’s feet, and suddenly the ground began to shake. Startled, Bolt jumped off of the circle of leaves and watched as a gap appeared in the circle, growing larger by the second. The entire circle eventually disappeared, replaced by a deep, dark hole. And then a metal platform, throwing sparks along its path, raised up from the pit and slammed into place in the opening.

_There’s something I want to show you… Deep beneath our forest home._

This was it. Something _amazing_ had been lurking beneath his childhood home this whole time. He stepped onto the moving platform.

“Let’s go see my future,” Bolt said, and he pressed a big button on a pillar on the edge of the platform.

With a sound of grinding metal, the platform began to descend into the ground. Just after Bolt’s head went below-ground, the hatch covered in leaves slid into place over him, and he was plunged into total, inky darkness.

\----------------------------------------------

The moving platform ground downward for several minutes. At this point Bolt figured he must be traveling more than fifty feet underground. He couldn't see anything, not even his hand in front of his face. He had never experienced such total darkness before. It scared him a bit, until he realized he had his silver torch in his backpack, and he took it out and quickly flipped the switch.

With a small circle of the blackness banished, Bolt could see that the walls of the shaft were made out of some stone-like material, except it was perfectly smooth. Bolt wouldn’t know this, but the substance he was seeing was called concrete.

The platform began to slow down, and with a heavy jolt, it stopped. He shone his torch in front of him. There was a very strange looking… Door? He felt it was a door, but no door he had _ever_ seen looked like this. There were no hinges or doorknobs visible, no obvious way to open it.

A strange shape made out of blue light materialized over a circular plate in the center of the “door.” It was a circle with a straight line cut out of the radius of it, the line pointing upwards. Suddenly, the door spoke, in the same voice as his WristUnit.

"Please hold up your hand to the WristUnit Identification Module to open this door."

Bolt got it now. This was a magic door that he needed to use his WristUnit to open! Following the voice’s instructions, he presented the door with the palm of his hand. His WristUnit’s ring lit up, and suddenly, the shape on the door rotated with a sound of moving metal.

“WristUnit identity confirmed,” Said the door, “Welcome, [MissingName].”

The door slid open, it actually _slid_ open instead of opening like a normal door. That explained the lack of hinges. Bolt tentatively stepped through the opening into a hallway lined with more of the magic doors. There was a dim orange light coming from strips on the walls, just bright enough to see by, but the aura of the light made Bolt somewhat uneasy. He kept his silver torch switched on to be able to see things with more detail.

The voice spoke again, this time coming from all around Bolt rather than from the door. "Please be advised, Outpost Research Base is currently running on minimal power. Only essential systems are available at this time."

“Whatever that was supposed to mean,” Bolt commented.

This underground building was filled to the brim with magic. It came out of the lights, hovered with the strange bright shapes on the doors, it spoke from the ceiling. Ancient machinery _everywhere._

Then Bolt noticed that there were signs printed in English on the doors. One of the doors caught his eye.

ARMORY

Bolt held out his hand to the door. However, this time, the circle on it turned red and did not move.

“I’m sorry,” The voice said, “Unfortunately you lack sufficient clearance to open this door. Please contact your commanding officer for access to this chamber.”

“Darn it,” Bolt swore, “I guess getting my hands on ancient weaponry won’t be that easy.”

Bolt continued down the hall. A scary metallic creaking sounded from the ceiling. This facility was _very_ old. Bolt suddenly had a very terrifying vision of the place caving in on him, burying poor Bolt deep, deep underground, where no one would _ever_ find him. He shivered with this thought. He had to find his destiny here quickly and get out fast.

A door with a sign that was too worn to read stood at the end of the hall. Feeling curious, Bolt opened this door with his WristUnit, only the door seemed to be somewhat jammed and it only opened wide enough to allow Bolt to squeeze in tightly.

Inside the room was a chair with a helmet draped over it. Multiple vine-like things trailed out of it. It looked like some sort of torture device, but this didn’t seem like a torture chamber. He could see books lined up on the wall, so this definitely wasn’t a place meant to hurt people, it seemed more like some sort of ancient library.

Bolt’s curiosity completely took over. Against his better judgment, he sat down in the chair, setting his backpack and silver torch down next to him, Bolt’s innocent gullibility on full display.

The chair spoke. Evidently _everything_ in this strange place could talk. “Welcome, student,” Said the chair, “Beginning infusion process. Please hold still.”

The helmet dropped onto Bolt’s head, covering his eyes.

Bolt thrashed around, now terrified. “Let me go!” Bolt screamed. Unfortunately the chair wasn’t listening.

Bolt suddenly lost control of his limbs and he went limp. Then a flurry of images flew across his mind’s eye. Pictures of weird cities, historical events. He saw a strange fish-shaped object swimming in an ocean of stars. Many more things flashed in his mind, growing faster and faster until… It all went blank and Bolt plummeted into darkness.

\----------------------------------------

Bolt was once again in total darkness; he felt like he was suspended in midair. "Oh great," Bolt snidely commented to himself, "I'm dead. I'm _so_ done with this junk."

Suddenly he was floating in a starry void, and before his eyes was a massive blue sphere. _A planet,_ Bolt's head somehow told him. A single white moon orbited the "planet."

Suddenly his father appeared next to him. Bolt gasped. He was even more lifelike than the WristUnit recordings of him; if he were less smart he'd think that somehow his father had been brought back to life and was at his side once more.

His dad pointed at the planet while looking at him. "Two hundred years ago... We ventured far from our home planet Terra in the hopes of making contact with a new civilization."

He took Bolt's hand, and shockingly Bolt could _feel_ the texture of his skin on his. This overjoyed him.

"If you are seeing this message, then you have been chosen to take us home... As the new captain of the Starchild."

Bolt could only breathe with a mixture of excitement and awe. This is what his father had prepared him for...

This was his destiny.

"Coordinates for the Starchild's resting place have been loaded onto your WristUnit, and your ranking status on your WristUnit has been upgraded. Your journey will not be easy, Bolt... But I have faith in your abilities." He smiled warmly at him, and soon they were hugging, father and son embraced while adrift in space, Bolt feeling every bit of his body pressed against his. "Best of luck, son," he said with a reassuring smile.

The void, his father, the planet, everything disappeared and suddenly, he was once again in reality, the helmet rising off of his head, and he grasped his chest, still feeling the hug the simulation of his father had given him. He admittedly felt a little empty now, knowing that the man who had embraced him was not actually his dad, but a representation of him. But it had been real enough that his heart almost broke with joy for their all-too-temporary reunion.

That was when he realized something. Actually, he realized MANY things. SO many things. He now knew how to operate a Falcon-Class Large Exploration Vessel. He was now fluent in the five official Terran languages. He knew too many things about this weird subject called "mathematics," especially the intricacies of the practical applications of it in celestial travel.

And he knew he had a home. On this strange, one-mooned planet called _Earth._

Whatever this machine was, it had given him a full Terran education in seconds. Then the special message his dad left for him inside the machine sunk in.

"That's it..." Said Bolt to himself... "It wasn't 'go to the star, child' my mother told me when she died ... It was 'go to the _Starchild!_ ' The flying ship my ancestors came here on... My parents wanted me to go home, to Earth!! That's why I'm outfitted with all this weird tech! I was going to be their pilot!" His face fell... "But they're all gone now... It's just me, the last of my kind on this planet... And what would Keeper think if I just up and left him!? And what would he say to me if I told him what I just learned!? 'Oh, surprise, my scaly friend, I'm not just ANY old scavenger, I'm a SPACE ALIEN SCAVENGER!’ He'd think I'm nuts!"

Then he remembered where Keeper was.

"I have to go save him. And I know just where to go now to arm myself." A huge, happy smile broke his face under his scarf. "This is going to be _fun.”_

He dashed down the hall to the room labeled "Armory." As he held out his arm, his WristUnit glowed and the door said "Commanding Officer Recognized" before the hologram on the door's center rotated and it opened.

Bolt was now a Captain, with full access to every Terran-made facility on this planet. All the technology his ancestors had placed here in the distant past was _his_ to command. The sheer overwhelming power at his disposal felt amazing.

He addressed no one in particular, "I'm Bolt. I'm about to arm myself to the _teeth_ with advanced weaponry and storm an entire mansion _full_ of dragons, to save my own dragon friend. Everyone following me so far? Great."

He was positively giddy with the rush of new knowledge, and new deadly toys to play with. These dragons had teeth, claws, fire, and treasure. Bolt had something far more powerful, and far more valuable than treasure. He had _technology._ He was going to bring the full wrath of Terran weaponry down on these dragons that killed his village and took his friend. And he was going to have so much fun doing it.

"What a perfect time for me to come of age and step into my destiny," Bolt sang as he pulled a gigantic Pulsar cannon off the wall. "Oops!" He shouted, as he dropped the cannon since it was so heavy. "No matter. I can make myself stronger with THIS."

Before him stood a big white suit of armor, the design of which oozed futuristic architecture. He walked around to the back of it and placed his hand up on a raised circle at the base of its neck. His WristUnit glowed and suddenly the entire suit flew apart, its pieces floating in midair.

Knowing exactly what to do, Bolt stepped in between the floating pieces of the armor and held his arms out from his side in a "t-pose." The armor began to assemble itself on top of him as he laughed gleefully.

"Haha, I'm SET! Literally NOTHING they can do can hurt me now!"

After all the years he spent cowering and hiding from these big dragons, with the weapons and armor his ancestors left him he could finally step out from beneath the shadows of their wings, and it felt _glorious._

The helmet of the armor clicked into place over his face. After a moment of total darkness the instruments inside the suit came to life.

ARVEN CORPORATION LINKSUIT MK3 RV2

//WARNING! AUTHORIZED USE ONLY!//

COMMANDING OFFICER RECOGNIZED

HELLO, [MISSINGIDENT]

//NO SUIT CONTROL IMPLANT DETECTED, DEFAULTING TO WRISTUNIT CONTROL PROTOCOL//

PILOT LINK IN PROGRESS....................DONE.

ALL SYSTEMS GO

"LinkSuit online," said a feminine voice from inside the suit, and the external camera feed went online and he could now see in front of him, and his view was augmented with a HUD that showed him everything from his weapon status to his vitals.

"Hello, LinkSuit. We're going to be best friends!" He stepped off of the platform the LinkSuit stood on, and picked up the Pulsar cannon effortlessly and clipped it onto the weapon rack on the suit's back. His knowledge-infused brain told him that the LinkSuit had anti-gravity generators in the palms of its hands, which would allow him to lift things _many_ times his size with ease.

Bolt stepped out of the armory, and ran down the hall back to the elevator. He gently tapped the button, being careful not to smash it with his newfound strength, and the platform ascended back to the surface. He then realized he had left his backpack in the room with the teacher-chair, but he shrugged it off. He would come back for it after he rescued Keeper.

\------------------------------------------------------

KA-CHUNK! Went the elevator, and soon Bolt was back on ground level, only he was _many_ times as powerful as he was when he went in. He ran at a brisk 30 miles per hour through the village ruins into the forest, and stopped in front of a boulder beside the trail.

“Time for some target practice,” Bolt said, and he pulled the Pulsar cannon off his back and primed it by pressing the button on its side. This gun would make the one his father used eleven years ago look like a pea-shooter. When the weapon activated, the HUD on his LinkSuit created a target reticle showing him exactly where the bolt from the Pulsar would hit. If he squinted, the field of view on the HUD would zoom in on the reticle, allowing him precise aim. Definitely a far cry from his bow and arrow.

Bolt shouldered the cannon and aimed at the boulder. Taking deep breaths, he focused in on a dent in the boulder… And he pulled the trigger.

A colossal BOOM came out of the cannon, though thankfully there was no recoil, since the weapon was not launching a physical projectile, and a thick beam of white light zapped straight at the boulder. When the dust cleared, he noticed that a five-inch-wide hole had been literally _melted_ through the boulder; he could _see_ through the smoldering hole to the brush on the other side, and even some plant life behind the rock had been burned away.

_Imagine what this would do to a dragon if I turned this thing on one,_ Bolt thought with awe, _One-shot kill, definitely._

Bolt turned off the Pulsar and strolled through the brush back into the field he had slept in. That’s when he “remembered” another feature of the LinkSuit.

“Oh-ho-ho, I can _definitely_ do this,” Bolt happily said. He crouched in the field, and took off at a super-human pace. He coiled his legs, then _leaped._ A pair of grav-jets popped out of his ankles, and Bolt was catapulted more than two dragons’ height into the air. He fell back down and hit the ground running. He leaped again, kicking up some dirt with his launch.

On the third leap, a small pair of wings loaded with gravity manipulation arrays unfolded from his back, and instead of jumping, Bolt was launched into the sky at tremendous speed, the sheer force of his launch creating a shock wave on the ground. Within seconds he was close to the clouds, and he could see for _miles_ around him.

Bolt was flying. He was flying faster, higher, and more nimbly than any dragon, even the sleekest, fastest SkyWing couldn’t dream of matching his velocity. Overcome with joy, Bolt executed a high-speed loop in midair and zipped off towards the north, towards the location on the map being projected onto his HUD, where the old SandWing had indicated Crimson’s mansion’s location.

Bolt was a scavenger on a mission. He was going to avenge his parents and save his friend.

_I’m coming, Keeper._

_I’m coming._


	10. Ultimo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ultimo. Latin for "Finale." 
> 
> Welcome to the climax. It's going to be a wild ride.
> 
> Bolt, now equipped with weaponry that no dragon could possibly stand against, fights his way through Crimson's mansion on a mission to avenge his fallen friends and family, and ultimately rescue Keeper from the cruel SkyWing's clutches. 
> 
> In a battle between the primal fury of dragons and the terrifying power of Terran military technology, who will come out on top?

Chapter Ten: _Ultimo_

-Bolt-

“Approaching sound barrier,” Said the LinkSuit, and shortly afterward, a hard jolt shook Bolt’s body and a gigantic BOOM erupted from around the suit.

He was now flying so fast that the air surrounding him was a blur. At this rate he’d reach Crimson’s mansion in no time. He checked his vitals on his HUD. Yep, he was excited. His HR hovered at a steady 111.

Far below him he could see the spires of the SkyWing palace. He looked down at it… And barely had enough time to course-correct before he collided with a dragon! He knew that if he crashed into one of them at this speed, they’d _both_ end up dying; Bolt from a completely compacted skeleton, and the SkyWing from Bolt’s body literally becoming embedded inside him, causing him severe internal injuries and he would likely die in midair. Definitely not a good look.

Bolt left the bewildered SkyWing in his vapor trail and forced onward. He made a slight right turn and within a minute he could see it. Crimson wasn’t even trying to hide himself. In his corrupt mind, Bolt bet, no one would _dare_ to infiltrate his dominion. Well he had news for him: this little scavvie did _not_ care. Whatever the evil SkyWing had in store for him, he would pummel straight through with a vengeance.

_Vengeance._ He figured his father would not approve of him using such a strong word. But in his mind there was no other alternative term for what he was about to do. He was going to make some dragons hurt. He was going to dish out some retaliation, eleven years in the making.

Bolt began to slow down, and he came to a stop hovering one thousand feet above ground level, according to the LinkSuit’s altimeter. From his vantage point he knew he could use the suit’s onboard sensor equipment to scan up a map of the compound. And that he did. He called up a menu on his WristUnit, which was being routed through a secondary projector on the wrist of the suit itself, and scrolled through options until he reached the “Initiate Structural Scan” button, which he pressed.

A digital filter slid down over his HUD and before his eyes, the walls of the mansion became transparent, and in the corner of the HUD, floor plans of the mansion’s three levels drew themselves. An added benefit was that he could see the positions of dragons inside the structure. From a rough count he could detect about nine of them. _Funny. I was expecting more._

Bolt knew he was well-equipped to take on dragons, but he was also sensible enough to not try and take too many of them on all at once. He would have to be smart about this.

“How thick is that roof, LinkSuit?” Bolt asked the onboard AI.

“Approximately ten Standard Length.”

Bolt didn’t know what that meant. “Can I break through it?”

“With sufficient velocity, yes.”

Bolt looked back at the ongoing scan of the building. There was a small room with no dragons in or around it. He would make his entrance there. He raised himself up a few hundred feet, and then called up a reticle that would allow him to plot his flight path more precisely. He took a deep breath…

Then dropped.

Letting gravity flip him head-first, he lined up the reticle right over the room he wanted to breach, then he held his fists out in front of him and maxed out his grav-jets, propelling him at high speed straight for the roof. A warning message appeared in prominent red text on his HUD.

//GROUND COLLISION WARNING: PULL UP//

An alarm began to sound inside the suit, and the AI began to repeat “Caution: pull up.” over and over. He ignored them. Since he knew the exact specifications of the LinkSuit, he knew it would be able to handle breaking through the roof. He continued to build up speed, then…

_CRASH!!_

Inside the space of a second, several things happened. With tremendous force, Bolt’s body punched through the mansion’s wood-and-stone roof, and right then, Bolt completely negated the polarity of the grav-jets, causing him to jolt to a stop inches from the floor, and he gently touched down on the ground, his suit’s flight systems going into cooldown mode.

Bolt looked around him, and re-engaged his “X-Ray Vision.” He immediately saw that a dragon had apparently heard him break through the roof, and was on his way to the room to investigate. Bolt saw a loose block of stone on the floor, and he pulled it up using his anti-gravity grip and dropped into the hole he created. There was a space between floors that he fell into, and he replaced the block just as a SkyWing entered the chamber above him.

Bolt heard sounds of confusion from the dragon. Obviously he noticed the scavenger-sized hole in the roof, and was in the process of wondering what could have made the hole, since humans, of course, didn’t normally fall from the sky with enough speed to cause that much damage to wood and stone.

Bolt’s new environment was one of near-total darkness, so he had to rely on the skeletal outlines of rooms and corridors on his HUD to navigate. A place like this was bound to have traps, but then again, Bolt doubted that Crimson was expecting a full-on assault by a scavenger wearing high-tech armor, so at least in this in-between space Bolt figured he was safe. Bolt walked along a wood beam, likely load-bearing, and continued scanning his surroundings. He saw a dragon curled up on the floor two levels below him, in the basement.

_That’s probably Keeper. I gotta get over there._

He wondered how he was going to get his friend out of here. Bolt, being a scavenger, was small enough that in a dragon-built structure he was able to squeeze into tight spaces that a dragon wouldn’t be able to access, but if he had to escape _with_ Keeper he’d have to go out the front door with him. This confounded him. It seemed that the only way he could get Keeper out of this place is if he wiped out most, if not all, of the enemy dragons in the building. In other words, stealth wouldn’t work here, at least for the escape phase.

Bolt crouched down and surveyed the various dragons through his vision. There were three dragons that seemed to be following a set patrol route, each with portions of their path where they would be separated from each other. He could pick these dragons off one-by-one. And even more conveniently, there seemed to be a closet he could hide the dragons’ bodies in once he took them out.

Then Bolt thought of how exactly he could go about “taking out” these dragons. He could easily kill them. All it would take is a Pulsar bolt to the head to blow their brains out. But Bolt figured many of these dragons, while complicit in Crimson’s crimes, were only in it for a salary and otherwise weren’t bad people. Many of them probably had families they had to feed.

Bolt swore quietly to himself. He had mentally backed himself into a proverbial corner. His profound human empathy was getting in the way of what he had to do. When Bolt lost _his_ parents, he spent his childhood in a living nightmare trying to survive. As much as he hated these dragons for what they did to him, he couldn't bring himself to inflict the same fate on _their_ children. He would have to take a non-lethal approach.

The Pulsar cannon was out of the question. As a heavy assault model, the PC-43 had no “Stun” setting, its only function was burning holes through almost anything. Then he remembered that one time he had accidentally knocked out his cousin in a play-fight by punching him in the forehead, which had gotten him grounded for a week. _What if dragons have the same weakness?_ It was a gamble. But if he could modulate the gravity of his fist as he threw a punch, using the LinkSuit’s gravity manipulation arrays, theoretically he could hit a dragon’s skull with enough force to shatter the unfortunate dragon's head.

And if it didn’t work, he could always fall back to Plan A and blast their brains with his cannon. What could possibly go wrong? Besides the fact that if he missed a single move he’d be stepped on, eaten, or a little bit of both.

Bolt saw his target pass directly below him. It was time to move. He leaped off the support beam, and crashed, feet-first through the ceiling of the ground floor, and for the first time today, a SkyWing guard of the Crimson Gang came face-to-face with what was probably, to him, the strangest-looking scavenger he had ever seen. All bleach-white, seemingly made out of metal, no discernible face anywhere, and only bearing the general size and shape of a human being. That feeling didn’t last long. With an audible _crack_ Bolt’s fist collided with the guard’s temple, boosted by the forces of manipulated gravity, and the dragon went out like a light.

As the dragon’s limp head hit the floor, so did Bolt’s armored feet, and Bolt decided to put his gravity grip to good use. He picked up the dragon with both hands, or at least half of him since his hands only had so much coverage area, and dragged the unconscious dragon across the floor to the nearby closet door, and with a boosted jump, he leaped up to the door handle and heaved it downward, then continued to pull the SkyWing into the room. The entire thing would look very strange to an onlooker; a one-hundred-and-fifty-pound scavenger pulling a two-ton dragon along the floor like a big treasure-sack made out of scales, teeth, and claws.

Bolt pulled the door shut behind him, then spread his “wings” and flew back up through the hole he made into the in-between space. One down… Two to go in this sector.

\---------------------

The other two dragons went down without suspecting a thing. After dragging the SkyWings into the closet, (Which was thankfully big enough to fit all three of the dragons) he sneaked along the hallway into a parlor room. Scanning the rest of the floor, he could tell that there were no more dragons on this level. He had a clear path to his destination now.

Bolt looked for a staircase leading down, and found it in a hall on the other side of the parlor. He quickly made his way into the hall, hoping that the dragons he knocked out up here would stay down long enough for Bolt to safely escape with Keeper. He approached the door… And found it was locked when he tried to jump up and turn the knob.

No matter. He would just blast the door open. He pulled his Pulsar off his back, and primed it. He focused in on the door’s keyhole, and let loose a bolt of energy at the lock that obliterated it. The door swung open from the force of the bolt hitting it.

Beyond the door was an environment in contrast to the opulence of the upper levels of the mansion. Fitting the stereotype of a typical dungeon, the stairway leading downward was lined with walls of crude stone, and the area was dimly lit by torches.

Bolt would have to be careful here. There was a guard at the bottom of the stairs, whom he had already stirred by blasting open the door, though the dragon did not leave his post. It was obvious: Bolt had no choice but to walk into a fight. Several more dragons guarded the cell doors beyond the landing below.

Bolt readied himself, then dashed downstairs, his metal-clad feet making little _thuds_ on the stone below him as he sprinted downwards. He heard the dragon make a noise indicating he was perking up, a curious growl coming out of his mouth. No doubt the dragon was confused; he was trained to guard against other dragons, and the little pitter-patter of Bolt’s feet was obviously _not_ the talonsteps of a dragon.

Bolt took a flying leap, a _literal_ flying leap that leveraged the grav-jets to send the human soaring over the dragon’s aghast face into a wide-open space leading into the prison, and Bolt landed on the ground, executing a somersault roll upon landing, and he took a combat-ready stance in front of the dragon.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!” Went the dragon. Of all the opponents this guard had faced, all the prisoners he’d tortured, _this_ was the most pathetic he’d ever seen from his viewpoint. He continued laughing. “Okay. You wanna fight, scavvie? Let’s go!”

Bolt wasted no time, and charged the dragon head-on. He unleashed a torrent of gravity-boosted punches and kicks on the dragon’s body. Clearly the guard was not expecting Bolt’s blows to be so potent; a few of his hits actually made the dragon grunt with pain and/or surprise. But Bolt wasn’t hitting any weak points, and with a flick of his talons, he sent Bolt flying across the floor, where he landed on his back.

Now the dragon looked legitimately angry that he had nearly been shown up by a scavenger, of all things. "Enough! You are beneath me! I am a _dragon_ , you dull creature, and I will not be bullied by--"

Bolt catapulted himself at the dragon, grabbed him by his tail and swung him around, a dizzy moan coming out of his mouth as he accelerated, then Bolt let go, sending the dragon flying into a wall, which his head crashed through and he stayed put there, groaning with pain.

"And that's why you shouldn't have a tail," Bolt said quietly to himself, suppressing a laugh, "Too much of a liability."

Unfortunately, the commotion had attracted the rest of the guards. They rushed into the landing chamber, and were supremely surprised to find their SkyWing comrade stuck head-first in a wall, and an armored scavenger giving them a death-glare from behind a helmet.

_Bring it on,_ Bolt thought.

-Ten Minutes Later-

Bolt dashed down the hall, following his see-through vision to find Keeper laying on the ground behind bars. Keeper took one look at Bolt, and apparently not recognizing him, he actually looked somewhat _scared._

_Wow, Keeper. You’re actually frightened of me when I’m wearing this? I’ll remember that._

“W-who are you!?” Keeper shouted at him.

Bolt toggled a switch on his WristUnit and his helmet folded itself back behind the front of his head, exposing his face. Now Keeper looked even more surprised.

“Bolt!?” Then he looked a little overjoyed. “Bolt! You actually came!”

“Were you expecting me to just abandon you?”

“Well… Yes. There’s no way a scavenger could survive here. I presumed you would know that and go back to your nomadic lifestyle.”

Bolt looked a little guilty. “I tried going back to my old ways. But I couldn’t. We’re friends, Keeper. And we humans never leave our friends behind.”

“What are you wearing? It looks so outlandish!”

“It’s called a LinkSuit. My ancestors left it behind in my old village. Basically it turns me into an unstoppable force of destruction.” Bolt flexed his arms boastfully.

Keeper glanced seriously at the hallway behind Bolt. “What happened to the guards?”

“The guards have run into a minor inconvenience.”

Meanwhile, the one SkyWing was still stuck in the wall, and the rest of them lay unconscious on the floor, a trail of inactive dragons leading away from Bolt down back to the staircase.

Keeper looked shocked when he presumed what the human meant. “You _killed_ them!?”

"Of course not! They're unconscious! I'm not a monster."

“You’ll need keys to get me out. How are you going to find them?”

“I’m a scavenger. I’ll ‘scavenge’ for them.”

Bolt dashed back down the hall. He looked over the guards’ bodies. There didn’t seem to be any keys on them. Bolt climbed onto the wall-bound SkyWing’s body, causing him to writhe around in panic just like Bolt would if a big, dangerous wasp were crawling on his arm.

“Where’s the keys, scaly one?”

The dragon’s body went rigid with shock as Bolt’s words were telepathically translated. “N-no way. You beat me up, then you _talk_ to me!? This is _some_ nightmare, but I’d _really_ like to wake up now!”

“Keys, dragon. _Where are they??”_

“O-on the wall behind me! The one for the cell you’re looking for has a yellow sticker on it!” He began to whisper to himself. “Please let this be over soon…”

Bolt jumped off his back and ran over to the wall. He activated the grav-wings on his suit and floated weightlessly up to the rack where several keys hung, and he lifted a key as big as his arm, emblazoned with yellow on its handle. He flew speedily back down to Keeper’s cell, and he quickly unlocked the door.

Keeper got up and stepped out of the room. “...Good job, Bolt.” He breathed, conveying with his voice that he was still not quite believing that his little mammalian friend had rescued him.

“Let’s go!” Bolt went, and he hopped onto his friend’s back, and Keeper began to sprint towards the staircase.

Bolt hung on tight as Keeper ran upstairs towards his freedom. He sprinted down the hall, ran into the parlor, and--

“Well, well,” Went a voice Bolt desperately hoped he wouldn’t have to hear. “I certainly wasn’t expecting _this.”_

_Crimson,_ Thought Bolt and Keeper in unison.

Bolt jumped off of Keeper’s back and stood in front of him, taking out his cannon and activating it, standing down the red dragon fearlessly just as his father had done so long ago.

“Oh, how cute,” Crimson growled, “A little scavvie wants to play hero.”

Bolt steeled himself and began to speak words he had honed and prepared for this exact moment over eleven years.

“I am Bolt the Enduring, Sole Survivor of Outpost Village. You killed my family. _PREPARE TO DIE.”_

Bolt fired his Pulsar at Crimson. Unfortunately, the SkyWing was more nimble than he looked, and he dodged the beam as it zapped over his back.

“Bolt, eh? Please excuse me, I’ve eaten _many_ of your kind. Could you jog my memory of who exactly the scavvies you’re talking about were?”

Bolt was beginning to get angry. “He was my father. Large man. Blond hair like mine.” His face turned red. Vivid, deep red. The switch had been flipped. Bolt was in full vengeance mode. “WHAT DID HE TASTE LIKE!? HE HAD BETTER HAVE BEEN DELICIOUS FOR ALL THE PAIN YOU PUT ME THROUGH!!”

“Ah, yes. That scavenger. I must say, Bolt. I can see why you scavvies ‘cook’ your food. Your father’s taste after I burned him was beyond compare. He was delectable.” Crimson licked his lips mockingly.

Bolt’s face turned an even deeper shade of red, almost purple, and his pupils narrowed to pinpoints. _I’m going to KILL this bastard!!_ He screamed inside his head. He knew now what he was going to do. He was going to tear this dragon to _shreds._ He was going to make him _pay_ for what he had done to him, his family, his friends.

“Or those other scavengers in your village. There was a mating pair trying to hide in their nest. They refused to be eaten apart,” he cooed, “So I ate them both at the same time. I do like to be respectful to my prey.”

An image of Bolt’s aunt and uncle flashed in his head.

_THAT DOES IT._

//LINKSUIT OVERDRIVE MODE ENGAGED//

The seams and accent lighting of the LinkSuit began to glow red, causing Bolt to take on a terrifying appearance reflecting his current mood. His wings unfolded and he took off into the air, soaring around the room, causing both Keeper and Crimson to pivot their necks around the room to keep track of him.

Like a honeybee swarming around a bear attacking its hive, Bolt flew in arcs around Crimson’s body, landing cataclysmic blows on Crimson. With a single punch he snapped off one of Crimson’s horns in an effort to shatter his skull; his punches were landing haphazardly due to the human being blinded by rage. Bolt then shouldered his Pulsar and barely giving it time to charge, he fired at the base of Crimson’s wing.

Now _that_ hurt. In fact, it blew Crimson’s left wing clean off his body. The SkyWing let out a roar of pain as his wing flopped to the floor. No blood spurted out of the wound, though, as the sheer energy of the Pulsar bolt cauterized the cut point on both ends.

For the first time in his pampered life, the dragon’s survival instincts kicked in. Smoke coming out of his nostrils, though he wouldn’t be stupid enough to shoot flames in this partially-wooden building, he began to lash out around him, his razor-sharp claws slicing through the air. He thrust his head forward, trying to bite Bolt in midair. Neither worked. Bolt was far too agile in the air.

Bolt was on track to kill Crimson. Mixing in with Bolt’s rage was a wave of triumph. He was doing it. He was avenging his village!

//LATANTITE CORE DEPLETED. PLEASE SUPPLY NEW CORE//

The LinkSuit fell apart.

Bolt tumbled through the air, and landed hard on his stomach on the rug, and the dead pieces of the LinkSuit clattered on the ground around him. Bolt’s bravado quickly departed him. He was no longer armored, no longer invincible. He was vulnerable. _VERY_ vulnerable, with a dragon who relishes eating humans in close proximity. Bolt’s eyes went wide, and he stared, terrified, at Crimson, who let out a triumphant laugh and stomped towards him. Bolt tried to get up; tried to flee.

But he couldn't. He was frozen with fear. Crimson seized Bolt in his talons and lifted him off the ground, as Keeper looked on in horror, he himself frozen in terror. Crimson erupted with a sinister grin and he placed Bolt’s left forearm between his other talons, and he squeezed _hard._

_CRACK._

Bolt cried out with sheer pain as his arm snapped just below his elbow. Keeper was still stock-still with horror. Crimson’s eyes glinting darkly, he raised his claws.

Crimson had a specialty. He always coated his claws in synthetic RainWing venom, which was more easily cured than the real thing, but no less painful and damaging. So when he dug his claws through Bolt’s shirt and into his fleshy back, right through the scars the bear of old had left him, Bolt was inflicted with so much pain that he was unable to breathe.

Bolt’s anguished mind erupted into chaos.

_PleaseIcan'tbearthispleaseeatmeIcan'tstanditanymoremakeitstopMAKEITSTOP--_

Bolt went limp.

Crimson raised little Bolt up to his mouth, preparing to crush his body between his teeth.

But that was interrupted by the fact that Crimson found that his back had been pierced by a SandWing’s tail barb.

-Keeper-

Keeper stood next to Crimson, with the tip of his tail buried in his debtor’s spine. Both dragon’s eyes went wide; Crimson’s with surprise and fear, Keeper’s with determination and fury. Keeper pumped the contents of his entire poison sac into Crimson.

_NO ONE HURTS MY FRIEND._

“Y-you… Son of a…” Crimson collapsed, dropping Bolt’s floppy little body to the ground, the deep red of the back of his blood-soaked shirt prominent in Keeper’s vision.

He had to save him.

Leaving Crimson to die alone on the floor, Keeper scooped Bolt up in his talons, trying to be as gentle as possible with his broken arm, and he took off out of the parlor, out of the mansion, and into the air.

He soared as fast as he could. He knew where he had to go. He had to go to the foremost expert on the care, keeping, and health of human beings. He had to go to Winter.

As Keeper flew, he looked down at Bolt. His dangling right arm had a shocking sight.

His WristUnit’s ring had turned red. It was also saying something he couldn’t understand.

It was saying…

“HR SIGNAL LOST.”


	11. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bolt, now grievously wounded and dying, is rushed to Sanctuary, where the human's last hope lies with the dragons' only expert on scavengers, Winter the IceWing.

Chapter Eleven: Recovery

-Keeper-

_Damn you, Crimson._

He could no longer feel Bolt’s little chest twitching in his talons. The boy had stopped breathing. How far was it to Sanctuary!?

_Damn you, Crimson._

He repeated those words in his head. The deed had been done, the terrible SkyWing crime boss was dead, by his talons. But before he departed this world he got the final laugh: he had taken his best friend’s life from him.

_Not on my watch._

Most dragons knew that if you intervened quickly enough, you could restart a stopped heart with repeated compressions to a dragon’s chest. There was a high chance the same would apply to a human. Then he’d have to somehow get the poison he knew Crimson had dipped his claws in out of his tiny body.

_There couldn’t have been that much on his claws… It should be easy enough to get it out of his bloodstream._

Keeper was flying at top speed. He had passed over the SkyWing palace, no doubt drawing some looks from SkyWings flying near him as he went. They probably got the situation all wrong in their heads, no doubt they thought Bolt was his prey, some unfortunate scavenger swept from his den to be consumed by him.

Obviously, the opposite was happening. Bolt was the best friend young Keeper ever had since the day Crimson descended on his own family. Despite the differences between them, the little mammal completed him, he would never feel the same without him riding on his back. He would roar all the critics away with this simple truth: he loved this scavenger.

If Crimson had in fact killed him, if there was truly nothing more he could do to save him, then he would personally invade the underworld for the sole purpose of dragging Crimson back to the world of the living if only to have the pleasure of killing him all over again.

He was almost there, he could recognize some of the mountains he had passed over. He remembered Bolt, with the strange device in his paw, plotting their course from home to get to Sanctuary in an efficient manner. With his assistance the trip didn’t take quite as long as it would have if he had to rely on his own sense of direction.

He could now see the rooftops, and the high wall surrounding the human village. He desperately hoped Winter was home.

Keeper landed in front of Winter’s house, and found that the door was open. Holding Bolt in his talons, he barged right through without even knocking, causing Winter, who thankfully was present, to jump up from his desk and prepare to let loose his frost-breath.

“ _What_ do you think you’re doing!?” He growled, “This is private prope--”

His eyes darted to Bolt’s bloodied body and Keeper’s panic-stricken face, and soon he changed his tune to one of desperate concern.

“Three Moons,” He gasped, “What happened to him!?”

“He… He saved my life.” Keeper, after his ordeal in the mansion and his full-throttle flight to get here, Keeper found that he was exhausted. He could barely get words out.

“Get him to the table, quickly!”

Keeper run-walked over to the table that Winter used for examining humans. Keeper set the boy down on his belly.

“Get his top covering off.”

Keeper gently tore open Bolt’s shirt with his claws. The sight that awaited him beneath his clothing tore his heart to pieces. Bolt’s back was a bloody, tattered mess, and what was left of his flesh on his back had turned black with the poison running through his veins.

“He’s poisoned,” Winter stated, “What poison did the attacker use?”

“I heard rumors that he used synthetic RainWing venom on his victims. Is there anything you have that can dispel it?”

“Synthetic RainWing venom…” Winter mused for a second. “I think I know someone in Sanctuary who knows what the antidote is. I’ll be right back; try to get him breathing again in the meantime!”

Winter dashed out the door at top speed. Keeper carefully flipped Bolt’s unmoving body onto his back. His bare torso also had blotches of black on it. Bolt had been dead for several minutes now. He knew there was little chance he could revive him, but he _had_ to try.

Keeper took one talon and placed it ever-so-lightly on Bolt’s delicate chest, and pressed down on it with the scaly part of his “finger,” (Bolt’s terminology was starting to rub off on him) and repeated his presses rhythmically.

He continued for five whole minutes, not stopping. He knew that if he did manage to get his heart beating again, he would only have a short time to administer the antidote before the human’s body collapsed even further, since his getting his blood flowing would spread the venom further throughout his body.

Winter came back through the entrance with a RainWing elder who, as Keeper would learn later, lived down the street and ran an apothecary. There was no time to lose.

Bolt still hadn’t woken up yet. Tears began to flow down Keeper’s face. He tried to deny the budding truth in his head. _He isn’t gone… He isn’t!_ He began to press down on his chest harder, eventually becoming so frantic and forceful that Winter worried he would break the boy’s sternum.

Still nothing.

Winter, a look of devastation on his face knowing what he was about to tell Keeper, approached him and put his wing around the SandWing’s body.

“I’m so sorry, Keeper...”

Keeper sobbed and stopped the compressions on Bolt’s chest.

“N-no!” Keeper cried.

The RainWing in the background looked on with sadness at the scene before him. He, too had lost a loved one, his beloved wife had been killed by an assassin’s poison, which had led the dragon to open his apothecary specializing in poison antidotes. Although he didn’t understand the reasoning behind Keeper’s feelings towards his “pet,” he could tell through Keeper’s reaction that he loved him very much.

While Keeper’s eyes were closed as they flooded with tears, he heard a series of tiny, high-pitched coughs. He ignored them. He felt that it was his ears playing tricks on him. There was no way that those tiny sounds were coming from Bolt.

Winter nudged Keeper with his wing. He still didn’t buy it. _He’s just playing a trick on me, that’s all_ , he thought.

It wasn’t until a barely audible, raspy “Keeper…?” sounded in his head that the dragon opened his eyes, and the miraculous sight before him brought him to even more tears.

Bolt was alive.

He was in severe pain and would truly die within minutes, but he was awake, staring with half-lidded, weakened eyes right into Keeper’s own.

The RainWing apothecary wasted no time. He literally shoved Winter and Keeper out of the way and got to work assessing Bolt’s injuries. He quickly flipped Bolt onto his back, drawing a agonized cry from Bolt due to his broken arm being twisted, and looked at the scratches. He nodded and produced a pouch of leaves from his satchel around his neck, and swiped the leaves onto Bolt’s back.

Bolt went stiff; having these dry leaves sprinkled on an open wound really hurt. The RainWing then took out a pill, which would be too big for Bolt to swallow in its current state, and the dragon, knowing this, took out a blade and chopped off a sliver of the pill, being precise enough to mete out the exact dosage a scavenger would need of this medicine.

The dragon gave the pill to Bolt, who readily slipped it beneath his scarf and he swallowed it.

Keeper, Winter, Bolt, and the dragon pharmacist waited. One second, two seconds…

Bolt fell back into unconsciousness, which prompted Keeper to panic a little, but then he saw that the dark patches on his skin were shrinking. The medicine was working.

Keeper rushed up to the RainWing, overcome with relief, and wrapped his wings around him in the dragon equivalent of a hug.

“Thank you! Thank you so much!” Keeper shouted.

Meanwhile, Winter took some scavenger cloth he had saved for study, and wrapped them around Bolt’s torso to serve as a bandage for the lacerations on his back.

“Now that our crisis is over,” the RainWing said while Keeper was still hugging him, “I would like to introduce myself to this young SandWing here. My name is Aloe, and I work as Sanctuary’s chief purveyor of medicine. I also assist Winter in keeping the scavengers in his sanctuary healthy, though it seems the scavengers themselves have their own healers, as I have not generally needed to administer medicine to any of them. The creatures handle themselves exceptionally well.”

“That’s one of the biggest discoveries I’ve made so far of the scavengers in my village,” Winter explained, “Scavengers can make medicine! We’ve seen them use many of the same herbs and barks _we_ use for healing on themselves! ”

Keeper doubted that this was much of a “discovery.” He had experienced human medicine himself the day he met Bolt. Knowing humans are just as intelligent as dragons, which Winter seemed to have forgotten, it would also make obvious sense that they too would have doctors, apothecaries, and such. In fact, if communication could be established with more scavengers than just Wren and Bolt, Keeper had little doubt that they could share their respective knowledge of medicine relating to their own species and advance each other’s fields of medical science.

“Now we just have to fix his broken arm,” Keeper said.

Winter stepped up to the table and looked at Bolt’s left arm, which was bent at an unnatural angle, though thankfully the bone had not punched through his skin.

“Scavengers have two bones in that part of their body,” Winter said, “They’re likely both broken.”

“We don’t have any splints or casts in his size,” Aloe said, “How are we going to heal it?”

“With the Sanctuary scavengers’ help, of course!” Winter looked confident.

“How?” Aloe asked, “We don’t know how to speak their language!”

“I know a little,” Keeper said, “Bolt taught me some basic phrases and such.”

“Let’s get to the sanctuary straight away,” Aloe said.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Obviously, the humans in the sanctuary descended into utter pandemonium when the gate opened and three dragons walked into their village. But a few of them noticed Bolt being carried in Keeper’s talons, and they stopped panicking for a second to become confused. Before they could resume fleeing, Keeper cleared his throat and spoke in Scavenger to them, hoping his pronunciation was sufficient, given he was speaking a language not meant for his tongue.

“Help. My friend is hurt.”

The scavengers froze in place. Equally stricken from their natural fear of dragons and confused from the fact that a dragon just _talked_ to them, the humans were stuck between two instincts: their instinct to run from dragons, and their innate curiosity and instinct to explore and learn about new things.

Finally, the humans’ own doctor came to the front of the crowd. The little physician was clearly scared of the dragons, but currently he was focused on the presence of an injured member of his kind being set down on the ground in front of him, and his passion for taking care of injured humans overrode his fear.

Right away he noticed the bent forearm; the bandaged, bloodied back, and he devised a treatment on the spot.

-Aloe the Scavenger-

While it was obviously not known between the two of them, the humans’ doctor in this town coincidentally shared the exact same name as the RainWing medicine specialist residing in the same locale. Aloe the RainWing and Aloe the Human would no doubt get along _very_ well if they could understand each other, and would likely work together to produce cures that no one in Pyrrhia had ever seen before.

Aloe saw the teenage boy’s injuries and winced. _This boy’s hurt badly,_ he thought, _But it seems the dragons have done the hard work for me. Definitely the first time I’ve ever seen a dragon care for a human rather than kill one._ _It_ _even called him_ _its_ friend. Pushing aside the unprecedented notion that a dragon could befriend a human, he focused on getting the boy to his hospital.

Gambling on the fact that the speaking dragon could understand him, he said “Wait here” to the Desert Dragon. Surprisingly, it nodded.

Aloe called to some of his brethren who hadn’t fled to the shelter yet, and they ran up to him and assisted him in lifting the teenager’s body off the ground. Together they carried him down the paved road to the hospital.

Once there, he was gently set down upon the table. It was obvious the teenager had been the victim of a dragon attack, no other creature could inflict scratches that large on a human’s body. The dragon that had evidently saved him had done a rough job of bandaging the cuts. If you could even call it a bandage; it was a hodgepodge of various scraps of clothing wrapped around his torso.

He carefully peeled it off and quickly got to work disinfecting the cuts with some medicinal alcohol. Thankful that the kid was unconscious and wouldn’t experience any pain from what he was about to do, he liberally poured the acidic fluid onto the boy’s exposed flesh. Confident that any infection was now gone, he went to a cabinet and took out a thick roll of bandage tape.

Soon, the young man’s torso was wrapped comfortably in clean fabric tape, and the doctor got to work on his arm. It looked like a somewhat clean break of both his radius and ulna, and the bone had not punctured his skin. It would need to be “reducted,” or put back into its natural position. Once again thankful that his patient was not in a state he could feel pain in, he gently picked up his arm and massaged the bones back into connection with each other.

When Aloe was satisfied with his work, he laid the boy’s arm flat on his stomach at a right angle and walked over to another cabinet where he had materials for making a cast: a stockinette and a big roll of plaster. He cut a strip off of the plaster and set it aside. Then he wrapped the stockinette around his patient’s arm, and also dipped the plaster in a bowl of water, then applied the plaster to the arm.

His work was done. It would take about half an hour for the cast to harden enough to be able to return the boy to his “friend.” (Though he still didn’t quite believe that this person had a dragon for a companion)

Thirty minutes later, Aloe checked up on him. He was still unconscious, likely still recovering from whatever had happened to him. He would wait for him to wake up.

-Another thirty minutes later-

Outside, the Sun was beginning to set, and it was then the young man finally woke up. Aloe quickly went to his side on the table.

-Bolt-

Bolt clawed his way out of the deep pit his consciousness had been trapped in, and awoke into a room too small for Keeper to fit in. _Why is this room so tiny?_ His mental faculties hadn’t been fully restored yet, so it took him several seconds to figure out he was in a human dwelling. Then he finally noticed a middle-aged human man sitting next to him. He seemed to be checking him over, examining him. _Oh. He’s a doctor. Keeper must have taken me to a human hospital._

“How are you feeling, young man? I’m Aloe. What is your name?”

Now that he thought about it, he felt _much_ better. The searing pain in his back and arm had withered down to a dull ache, and he noticed that his left arm was in a cast.

“My name’s Bolt. I feel better. Thank you for fixing my arm.”

“I wouldn’t call it ‘fixed’ just yet. You’ll have to wear that cast for a few weeks while your bones stitch back together, and then you’ll have to make your… (He seemed to be hesitating) Dragon bring you back here to have the cast sawed off.”

Hearing the mention of his friend perked Bolt up. “Keeper? Where’s Keeper?”

“Is that what you call your dragon?”

“It’s what he calls himself.”

“’Keeper’ as in he is _your_ ‘keeper?’ That dragon _owns_ you!?”

“No, of course not! We’re friends! I think he’s called Keeper because he’s a shopkeeper!”

The doctor sighed. “Kid, you are one of the strangest human beings I have ever met. You come into this town _surrounded_ by dragons, one of them _talks_ , and apparently they saved your life. _And_ you speak of them as if they’re intelligent. Are you forgetting what their role is? They EAT humans, kid. That’s what they do.”

“Not all of them. In fact, the Ice Dragon who watches over your village loves people. He wouldn’t let _anyone_ hurt you! And Keeper saved my life--” He counted on his fingers on his right hand. “Four times! They’re just like us. Most of them think we’re just animals, but some dragons, like Keeper and Winter, think we’re amazing people and they’ll protect us from the other ones!”

“Whoa, whoa. Slow down. You’re implying you can communicate with dragons!? How do you do that!?”

“It’s… Complicated. But yes, I can talk to them, and they can talk to me. My goal is to unite humans and dragons!”

“Do you have any idea how unlikely that is?” Aloe looked flustered. “Humans aren’t just going to start liking dragons. Too many of them lost loved ones to those things.”

“ _I_ lost loved ones to dragons. I’ve had so many scrapes with hostile dragons that I should get a medal or something for surviving so many attacks. But I don’t hold it against them. Keeper showed me that peace is possible. We’re living proof that dragons and humans can coexist.” Bolt sat up. “Now please take me to him. He’s probably worried sick about me.”

After putting Bolt’s arm into a shoulder sling, he helped Bolt walk out of the hospital and they strolled through the village. Up close the town was quite beautiful. Intricate designs had been carved into the wood on the houses, and everything was very clean.

“Did you people build this?”

Aloe looked a little upset as he remembered how he got here.

“Some of it. That ‘friendly’ Ice Dragon you mentioned ripped all of us out of our village and dropped us in here. None of us lost each other, but now we’re trapped here and completely at their mercy. Most people think we’re in some sort of human zoo or something. Others think it’s more like a farm, that they’re fattening us up so we’ll be extra tasty to them. Though since you say that this ‘Winter’ character would never let anyone hurt us, I’m leaning more towards the ‘zoo’ thing.”

_Well, he’s not wrong. This is kind of like a zoo, I guess._ “So did Winter build the houses?”

“Apparently. They were here when we got here. I suppose Winter really knows us well. These houses are very comfortable; they’re perfect for us. Although most folks here are too scared of the constant dragon presence to care.”

At that point they reached the gate. And sure enough, waiting there was Keeper.

-Keeper-

He could hardly believe his eyes. Bolt, who was limp and lifeless in his talons just over an hour ago, was now lively and walking right towards him, his arm in a little cast and sling, and his upper body wrapped in white bandages.

Winter looked amazed as well. “So frail… And yet so resilient. He managed to cling to life even after all that had been done to him. I can see now how scavengers manage to survive in a world populated by us.”

“Bolt!” Keeper tearfully shouted, and he walked up to him, a huge smile on his face. Bolt smiled too, and he approached Keeper, being careful with his steps, as he was not quite steady and awake yet.

“Thank you,” Keeper told the human doctor in Scavenger. The doctor looked a little uncomfortable with a dragon speaking his language.

But nonetheless he replied with “Just [squeak] my job, [squeak.]” (Keeper didn’t get everything he said; what Aloe was saying was “Just doing my job, sir.”)

“It’s getting dark,” Winter said, “And since you told me your home got wrecked, we should probably find some place for you to stay here in Sanctuary.”

“If there’s an inn or some such, that would be wonderful. Where would Bolt sleep, though?”

“It would be up to him. I know how close you two are, so I’ll understand if you want to be together. However, it would probably be more comfortable for Bolt to rest with his own kind in the human village.”

“Bolt, what do you think?” Keeper asked Bolt.

“I want to stay with Keeper.”

\-------------------------------------------

Keeper, Bolt, and Winter walked into the Scavvie’s Paw Inn, which was specified by Winter during the town’s planning to look just like one of the human dwellings he built for the sanctuary, just scaled up for dragons. Winter turned to the innkeeper.

“One bed and one…” He glanced at Bolt. “Pillow.”

-Bolt-

Soon, they were in a room that looked suspiciously like a room from the human village, but much larger. A comfortable-looking dragon bed lay on the floor in the corner, and Winter brought in a large pillow and set it down next to the bed.

“Good night, you two,” Winter said as he turned to the door. “And Bolt?”

Bolt looked up at Winter. “Yes?”

“I’m glad you’re okay. Keeper told me of your accomplishments at Crimson’s mansion. We’re both very proud of you.”

“Thanks.”

Winter left and shut the door behind him. Keeper curled up on the bed, and Bolt climbed onto the plump cushion Winter had left for him, and he laid himself down on his back on top of the pillow, with his encased left arm sitting in its sling on his stomach. After such a stressful day, Keeper fell asleep right away. Bolt closed his eyes, and about ten minutes later, he too fell into slumber.

……………………………………………………..

Bolt’s dream started out hazy. He couldn’t tell where he was. Then he saw a murky figure in the distance.

Bolt walked through the fog towards the figure. His distance from it seemed to be distorted; it kept sliding away as he tried to draw closer.

Suddenly, the fog cleared, and Bolt was standing in a field. That’s when he recognized the figure in front of him.

It was his father.

“Bolt,” he said, “Look up.”

Bolt turned his head skyward, and there, hovering in the air, was a gigantic white starship, blotting out the Sun with its mass.

_The Starchild,_ Bolt’s mind told him.

His father didn’t say anything more, but Bolt knew now that he was still bound to his destiny. He had to go home. He had to fly.

\--------------------------------------------------------

Bolt woke up before sunrise, and he looked at Keeper, who was still sleeping soundly. He had to tell him. He needed to know the truth about his ancestry. He was not of this world, and he needed to go home.

Bolt walked up to Keeper and nudged his talon with his good arm. Predictably, the dragon did not wake up. He would have to wait for him to wake up on his own.

Bolt decided to explore the hotel room. Everything, obviously, was sized for dragons, and things like tables and chairs were too tall for him to climb onto. There was a shirt in a frame on the wall, which Winter had probably collected off of one of his captive humans. He was glad Winter appreciated humans and saw them as more than just animals, but his love for humanity seemed to border on obsession, which creeped him out a bit.

Bolt’s stomach grumbled violently, and he suddenly felt weak. It finally caught up to him that he had not eaten or drank for an entire day. His last meal was the hodgepodge stew he made before getting attacked by a bear, the night before last night.

And then came the thirst. He was _parched._ He had to find some water, and _fast._

He immediately saw a bowl of water on a table, and he ran over to it, and made motions to begin climbing the table’s leg, only to realize that his left arm was still in a sling. He was crippled, and the water was therefore out of his reach.

_Darn it,_ Bolt thought, _Wait a minute, Keeper!_

Bolt jogged over to his friend, who was still fast asleep. He wasn’t going to be nice about waking him up this time; he was dying of thirst! He rammed his body into Keeper’s belly while yelling “Wake up!” repeatedly.

Keeper startled awake and nearly squashed Bolt under his flailing talons. “Bolt!” He shouted, “What is it?”

“I need some water! I haven’t had any since two days ago!”

Keeper looked skeptical. “Only two days?” (He is a desert creature, after all)

“Not funny, Keeper! Humans can only go three days without water!”

Now Keeper looked serious. “Where’s some water I can give you?”

Bolt pointed to the table. Keeper picked Bolt up and set him down on top of it. Bolt ran up to the now-reachable bowl and, caring not one bit about appearances, dropped his entire head into the bowl and pulled his scarf below his chin underwater, taking in huge gulps of the fluid. He could feel his body rejuvenating, his health restored.

When he felt like he was going to drown, he put his scarf back into place over his mouth and surfaced.

“That was a very interesting way of drinking,” Keeper said.

“Does this hotel offer breakfast?” Bolt asked, completely ignoring his statement.

“I don’t know. We could ask the innkeeper.”

“Let’s go!”

Bolt jumped onto Keeper’s back, a risky move given his arm’s state, and Keeper walked out of the room into the lobby.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Said the innkeeper.

“We’re both really hungry,” Keeper said, “Do you have anything we can eat?”

“I have some fruit in a bowl over here,” He said, and he gestured to a table with some apples and mangoes imported from the Rain Kingdom. Keeper set Bolt down on the table and the boy ran over to the bowl and grabbed an apple a little bigger than his head, and he ravenously tore into the fruit.

“You _are_ remembering to feed him thrice daily, right?” The innkeeper asked Keeper, “It looks like your scavenger was starving.”

“We had a problematic event happen to us, and we were separated for a day. It also didn’t help he almost got killed by another dragon.”

Bolt dropped the stripped apple core and took a mango, and bit into it. Soon, that fruit was also reduced to its pit.

“Bolt?” Keeper said, “I think that’s enough. You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“I had no idea scavvies could eat that much,” said the innkeeper.

Bolt sat down at the edge of the table, and let out a belch before saying “Excuse me.” Keeper sighed and sat down next to him, and he picked up an apple and ate it while Bolt held up his wrist and tapped it as best as he could with his semi-covered left hand.

The WristUnit apparently had shut down when Bolt’s heart stopped. Therefore, instead of instantly showing his home screen, the flurry of random English symbols that appeared when he first turned it on went across the screen, followed by the list of the device’s specifications. Then the smiling face appeared on the screen, which winked, and finally Bolt was presented with the WristUnit’s desktop.

Unfortunately that was the best Bolt could do with his WristUnit. Since the device was built into his right wrist, he couldn’t reach it with his right hand, and his left one was crippled. _Quite a design flaw,_ Bolt thought. He nudged his right wrist with his fingertip once again, and the screen put itself away.

Keeper finished his apple and thanked the innkeeper, then stood up. “We need to get back to Possibility. I have a home to rebuild.”

\------------------------------------------

First though, they stopped back at Crimson’s mansion. Keeper had an idea. He was going make like a scavenger (No offense to Bolt) and raid the wicked SkyWing’s treasure chamber. He brought many big sacks and burst into the house.

The mansion was empty. With the death of their leader, the Crimson Gang had effectively disbanded. The only dragon left in the mansion was Crimson’s corpse laying with his severed wing in the parlor. Bolt glanced uneasily at Crimson as they passed him.

“It’s okay, Bolt. He’s not coming back.”

Bolt spoke in a low, pained tone of voice: “I should be happy about that. He killed my family, and so many other helpless humans. But all my path of revenge did was put me in harm’s way, and I almost died. I was so reckless.”

Keeper saw the pieces of Bolt’s armor lying on the ground, along with the light weapon he had used against Crimson. He scooped them up and placed them in one of his bags. He didn’t want these powerful tools of destruction to fall into the wrong hands _or_ talons.

Down the hall from the parlor was the treasure room. There was a thick lock on the door. Keeper took the light weapon out of the sack and tried to hand it to Bolt. He held up his good hand and shook his head. “I won’t be able to hold it without the assistance of the LinkSuit. It’s too heavy.”

Instead Keeper tried to use the Pulsar cannon himself. He had seen how Bolt had used the weapon, and had a solid idea on how to operate it. The hole where the trigger was barely fit his talon, but he managed to fit the tip of his claw into the chamber. He aimed the “small” gun at the lock.

He twitched his talon and the weapon let loose its power on the lock, melting it and causing the door to swing open. A powerful weapon indeed.

Inside the treasure room was a wealth of gold and jewels. He became excited. He would never have to worry about money again! _This must have been what those scavengers felt when they broke into the SandWing treasure room!_ He thought. He looked at Bolt behind him, expecting him to share his excitement. Instead he saw Bolt looking indifferent, and somewhat distant about the treasure.

It was clear Bolt wanted nothing to do with Crimson’s treasure. It seemed that it only served as a reminder of what the SkyWing had put him through. Keeper sighed. He realized that most of this treasure was stolen property. It would be best if it were returned to its rightful owners. He began to bundle the treasure into his sacks.

\-------------------------------------------

-Possibility-

As it turned out, word had traveled fast regarding the fall of the Crimson Gang. Many were shocked to learn that a “super-powered scavenger” had destroyed the gang. To most of the residents of Possibility, many had already made the connection that the “Armored Scavvie” was in fact Bolt, given that the human had made quite a scene of going off to rescue Keeper.

The Crimson Gang had terrorized Possibility for years. Demanding payments for their own safety, no dragon here was safe from them. Until now. When Keeper landed with Bolt on his back, laden with treasure sacks pilfered from Crimson’s mansion, the dragons erupted into cheers and applause. The two of them were now considered heroes, and Bolt in particular was now the first scavenger in the dragons’ history to be hailed as such.

Bolt carefully got off of Keeper’s back, and was approached by the elderly SandWing who had shown him Crimson’s location.

“You risked your own life to save a dragon, and not only that, you succeeded, and helped to save our town from tyranny. As strange as it is to be thanking a scavenger, I think we of Possibility can all agree that our gratitude is well-warranted. You will always be welcome here.”

“Thank you,” Bolt said.

Keeper began distributing the treasure among the townspeople while Bolt rested under a palm tree nearby. Some dragonets came over to play with him, but decided not to bother him when they saw his sling and bandages.

When most of the treasure was given away, Keeper found that no one had claimed about one-eighth of it. He decided that he would keep the rest of it. As for now, he had to focus on getting his shop in working order again. He told Bolt to come along and together they walked home, surrounded by thankful dragons.

-Two Months Later-

-Bolt-

It took some work to get Keeper’s business/residence back to its former glory. Unfortunately, with only one working hand, Bolt was unable to rebuild his bed, though he was able to salvage the mattress and sleep on that. Several dragons came to visit them. They were all thankful for saving them from the Crimson Gang.

After this long, Bolt’s arm had healed enough to be removed from its cast. Keeper took Bolt back to the hospital to have it sawed off, and soon Bolt’s arm was free. Thankfully, Keeper could communicate with and understand the doctor more easily now, as Bolt had taught him more of his language during his recovery time.

Aloe gave him some instructions for his continued recovery. “It’ll take about a year for your arm to fully heal, so be careful with it until then. No heavy lifting with that arm.”

“Got it,” Bolt said.

The doctor also removed Bolt’s bandages, and even provided him a new shirt for free. Before he put on the garment, he looked at his back in the mirror and groaned. His back was now even more scarred, raised sections of his flesh completely covering most of his skin on that part of his body. He put on his new shirt, not wanting to look at his wrecked body any longer.

When Bolt walked out of the village with Keeper, they met up with Winter for lunch. As they ate, Winter commented on Bolt’s recovery, fascinated with humans’ ability to bounce back from injuries. When they were finished, Keeper flew with Bolt back home.

That night, Bolt dreamed of the Starchild again. The dream had a sense of urgency to it. He couldn’t wait much longer.

-The Next Day-

Bolt walked up to Keeper. This was it. He was going to leave Keeper and go follow his destiny.

“Keeper… There’s something I need to tell you about myself.”

Keeper crouched down to his level. “Of course, Bolt. What is it?”

Bolt told him everything. The underground research center, his true ancestry, and the fact that he had to go to this “Earth” planet. Keeper was surprised to hear about his lineage, then devastated to learn that Bolt wanted to leave off on his own.

“Bolt… Why? I thought we were close? What happened to helping unite our species?”

“Keeper, I know you really like me, but this is for the best. I don’t belong on this world. My home is on Earth.”

-Keeper-

Keeper closed his eyes and let out a few tears. He had just gotten his friend back… And now he wanted to leave him behind to travel to another world. _It’s for the best…_ He repeated in his head, and then he realized it really was. Bolt would never be safe in Pyrrhia, not as long as dragons ruled it. If he really cared about Bolt… He would have to let him go.

“Let’s go,” Keeper said, “Let’s… Get this over with.”

Bolt’s final flight with Keeper was bittersweet. It was a beautiful day for flying, that was for certain. Bolt opened his WristUnit map and right away, almost as if it was eager he was finally following his father’s plans for him, it gave him directions to the place where the Starchild waited for him. It seemed that the ship was currently underwater, just off the coast of the Mud Kingdom.

Several hours later, they arrived at a large hill, southeast of Outpost Village near the ocean shore. Bolt’s WristUnit was pointing right at it, even though it seemed it was just an ordinary semi-forested hill. Keeper landed on the hill.

Or tried to. His feet sank straight through the ground, and with a surprised roar, Keeper fell through a hole that materialized out of nowhere and crashed into a cave, but thankfully neither Keeper nor Bolt were hurt. Keeper didn’t know this, but the area he had landed on was only a projection, made by the Terrans to hide the cave.

Bolt and Keeper looked up from their crash site, and saw why the cave was hidden. A strange feeling took over them. _This place doesn’t belong here,_ they both thought.

The cave contained several things of interest. In the dim light they could see a slightly rusted metal pedestal, and something _huge_ at the other end of the cave. Bolt’s WristUnit was going crazy; a rotating ring had appeared, hovering, over his wrist, and then they noticed that a backlit ring, though the light was covered in dirt, had activated on the pedestal.

Bolt dismounted Keeper in a trance, and walked up to the pedestal. They could both see that a faint human handprint shape was engraved into it. Bolt held up his hand, with his WristUnit’s ring going nuts now, and he slowly, firmly placed his hand on the pedestal.

Both Bolt’s wrist and the pedestal erupted with light, and suddenly, huge lamps on the ceiling of the cave lit up, illuminating the entire chamber. Now they could see what was at the end of the cave. It was a massive circular door, made out of dense, unyielding metal.

A floating window flickered into place over the pedestal. He couldn’t read the scavenger writing, but Bolt obviously could.

-Bolt-

COMMANDING OFFICER RECOGNIZED

HELLO, [MISSINGIDENT]

These words hovered there for a second, then the screen cleared and began typing out new words.

............................................

AIRLOCK SEAL CONTROLS

CURRENT STATUS: SEALED (SEAL INTEGRITY 99%)

STANDING BY FOR AIRLOCK DOOR ACCESS CODE

>

Bolt looked over the words on the screen. _What code?_ Then the code came to him. The learning machine back in Outpost Village had planted it in his head for this exact moment. _The Terrans really do think of everything._

Bolt called up a keyboard, and Bolt began to type in the code. He could tell that Keeper was impressed with the way his hands were moving across the keys, no dragon could make their talons move like that.

> A6 CC 23 β

-CODE ACCEPTED-

A very loud repeating sound pierced the cave. _A buzzer alarm,_ Bolt’s brain told him.

A feminine announcer voice blared over the alarm: "CAUTION: PLEASE KEEP CLEAR. AIRLOCK SEAL IS OPENING."

Following this announcement was the single biggest metallic sound he had _ever_ heard. A huge ring on the outside of the vault door popped out, and with an ear-piercing grinding sound it began to rotate, scraping off huge amounts of rust and letting loose a flurry of sparks. With a gigantic BOOM, the door stopped rotating, then an inner section of the door also began to rotate, this time in the opposite direction. As this was happening, a huge arm-like contraption came down from the ceiling and it latched onto the center of the door, letting loose more sparks as it did so.

Finally, the arm, with what must have been the strength of five hundred or more dragons, pulled on the door, and with a rush of wind from inside the hatch that nearly knocked Bolt over, the door began to pull out from its socket. Several seconds later, it was free, and the door then rolled along a track to the left, and slammed to a stop with a BANG.

Behind the door was total darkness… Until some more spotlights flickered on inside the chamber, and inside, another platform elevator like the one in Outpost Village sparked its way up to the floor.

Bolt and Keeper walked into the chamber, which was big enough to admit a dragon. A gate on the elevator platform opened itself, and Bolt stepped on. Keeper also tried to get on the elevator, and Bolt’s heart skipped when the platform began to shake with a loud grinding sound. The platform was big enough to hold Keeper, but not strong enough.

“Keeper, get off!” Bolt shouted in a panic. The last thing he wanted was for _both_ of them to plummet down a deep hole.

Keeper quickly stepped off the elevator, and Bolt followed.

Bolt stepped up to Keeper and sighed. His destiny could wait a little longer. For now, he wanted to say goodbye to his friend.

-Keeper-

“So… This is it,” Bolt said.

Keeper teared up. “You don’t have to go… You could stay.”

“It’s for my own safety, at least for now. Think about it, Keeper. A whole world populated _only_ by us! I couldn’t imagine a safer place to spend the rest of my childhood. And maybe, when I’m feeling better and I’ve gotten stronger, I’ll come back. It’s not like the Starchild is only good for a one-way trip… I could always come back!” He rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. “Earth may be my species’ home planet, but I was born here. I’ll return someday. I promise.”

Bolt then hugged Keeper, the feeling of his little arms and paws embracing his body is one he’d never forget. Keeper thought of all the adventures they had together. All the times he had to bail the little human out of a sticky situation. Bolt meant the world to Keeper, and he knew that if he really loved him he’d have to let him go… But that didn’t make this parting any less heartbreaking.

“I’m going to miss you, Bolt…” Keeper tearfully told him.

Bolt looked like he was going to tear up himself for a second, but then his eyes had a strange determination to them. He looked trustfully up at his dragon friend… He brought his hand up to his neck, and slowly, deliberately...

He removed his scarf.

Underneath was a round little nose and a clean, furless chin and mouth. Bolt had a very pretty face, leading Keeper to wonder why he always covered it up. Bolt draped his scarf down over his shoulders, and let it rest there.

"Please... Call me Goldie." Bolt placed his hand on Keeper's nose. "You've earned the right to call me by that name."

Keeper sobbed and nuzzled Bolt’s entire body with his snout.

“Don’t cry for me, Keeper…” Bolt told Keeper, “I was born to do this.”

And with that, Bolt stepped away from Keeper onto the elevator, and he pressed a button next to the gate. The gate closed itself, and slowly, the platform began to descend into the ground.

“Try and find Wren!” Bolt called to him, “I’m sure she’d be happy to teach you some more English!”

With those last instructions, Bolt’s golden head disappeared down into the pit leading to his ship.

\------------------------------------------------------

-Bolt-

-Starchild Dock-

The light from the spotlights began to fade as he went lower and lower. Soon it was pitch black, and Bolt’s ears popped from the drastic change in pressure. He was going even deeper into the ground than he had gone in Outpost Village, easily more than a mile below ground. Finally, ten minutes later, the elevator jolted to a stop.

Just like before, he couldn’t even see his hand when he waved it in front of his face. And this time, he didn’t have his silver torch, or “flashlight” as he now knew it was called. He had left it with his backpack in the research bunker.

Thankfully, some dim lights came on, and Bolt could now see. A large concrete tunnel spread out into the distance. A dark haze hovered over the environment. His fear of cramped spaces twinged within him. He was all alone, deeper than the bottom of the ocean.

_I could always go back up,_ Bolt reasoned in his head, _Sure, it’d be awkward to go back to him after that tearful goodbye, but we’d get over it._

But he had a job to do. He couldn’t turn back now; he had to get to the Starchild and go to Terra. Bolt stepped off the elevator into the tunnel.

Bolt’s WristUnit flashed, then when he looked at it, he noticed that the ring was in some sort of animation where the ring was slowly drawing itself on his wrist, going clockwise as it filled up. _It’s loading something,_ Bolt figured out.

When the ring had finished its circular trip around the surface of his wrist, it beeped and spoke “Local Structure Plan download complete.”

Bolt tapped his wrist, and instantly a strange series of rectangular prisms and cubes formed over his wrist. It took him a few seconds to realize that his WristUnit was projecting a three-dimensional map of the underground complex! Sure enough, a dot appeared at the end of a long tunnel; that was his position. And on the other side of the underground building, which must have been _very_ large… Sat the Starchild, in what seemed to be a colossal cave beneath the seafloor.

Bolt stowed his map and began to walk forward. The overall ambiance of the tunnel set Bolt on edge; this was a place _no one_ had been to for a _very_ long time. He was half-expecting some monster or ghost to jump out at him and end his journey right there.

Bolt walked down the tunnel for five whole minutes, and then finally it opened up into an atrium. Here the lights were somewhat brighter. He could see that the wall in front of him had been painted with some mural. On it was a picture of a big white ship shaped loosely like a bird, hanging in the sky. Bolt realized that this image bore an uncanny resemblance to the vision he had in his dreams these past several weeks. Written in elegant cursive letters above the ship were the words:

_TERRAN UNIFIED STAR COMMAND: OPERATION “TREK”_

_LARGE EXPLORATION VESSEL “STARCHILD”_

The mural was surprisingly well-preserved given its age. Bolt’s educated mind told him that it was because the entire underground complex had been totally sealed against the elements for two centuries: it had been airlocked. This complex was meant to serve as the “capital” of the Terran colony on this planet, probably back before the Terrans realized that this planet was already populated by _two_ forms of intelligent life.

Bolt called up his map. This place was clearly a facility where one would quickly get hopelessly lost without guidance. It seemed that there was no straight path to the Starchild itself. He would have to take several corridors to get to the ship.

Bolt decided to open a door to his left. After the lights flickered on inside, he stepped in. A row of glass doors stood on one side of the hall. Unlike the sliding blast doors, these doors pivoted open like a normal door. He delicately pulled one of them open. Inside was what apparently passed as an office or work station among Terran humans. Rows of dusty desks occupied the space.

_THUD!!!_

Bolt nearly jumped out of his skin. The entire facility shook as if something _huge_ had started moving nearby. Bolt began to shiver with fear… Was something coming to get him??

Thankfully, his knowledge infusion from the outpost facility stepped in to quell his fear: that noise was simply the sound of the facility’s power core and life-support machinery waking up. It was actually a very good thing that happened; if the machines had failed to activate, Bolt would have run out of breathable air within a few minutes. As of now, the Starchild Dock was now back under full operational capacity, and fresh, filtered, conditioned air was being pumped down from ground level on the artificial hill the entrance was in.

With the re-activation of the facility's systems, the lights suddenly became brighter, dispelling the fear-inducing aura the building had previously. In addition, a number of holographic displays appeared over the desks in the office. Bolt became very curious. He had to see what kind of data the computers here had on them.

He randomly selected a computer and approached it. Sitting down in the eco-plastic chair, he pulled up to the desk and looked at the screen. It was currently displaying a login prompt. Bolt tried his luck at pressing his wrist up against the desk, since that seemed to work for most Terran hardware. No such luck, this PC was primitive enough that it used a username-password login method.

Bolt called up the keyboard and entered the name computers usually had for him: [missingname].

Surprisingly, the computer accepted the name. The username box disappeared and was replaced with “Hello, [MissingName]! Please set a password for your account!”

Another set of text boxes appeared, and Bolt decided to try something easy.

[Password]: password

Unfortunately, the box turned red, and the words “Sorry, please choose a more secure password” appeared over it.

Bolt decided to type in his father’s name according to the computer.

[Password]: Darter[MissingLastName]

He repeated the password as he was instructed by the system to confirm it, and soon, his login was successful, and he was dropped at what seemed to be a larger, scaled-up version of the home screen on his WristUnit.

A notification appeared at the top of the screen:

Error: Unable to establish celestial uplink with Terra. Some network features will be unavailable because of this.

“Guess that means I’ll have to wait until I get home to talk to anyone,” Bolt told himself.

Bolt opened the “Apps” tab on the desktop and scrolled through the selection of software available to this screen. One of them instantly caught his eye. He tapped on “Ship’s Log” and a window opened in front of the desktop projection.

On screen were all the log entries available to the captain of the Starchild. There were easily over a hundred individual files, all organized by date, starting with “November 8, 2597.” He opened the first log entry, set on that date.

_TUSC Starchild: Captain Frank Terrence’s Log, Wednesday, November 8 2597, 13:34 Unified Terran Time_

_You know, no one expected me to become a captain, much less the captain of a high-stakes exploration mission to an uncharted planet. Someone up in the brass smiled down at me, nonetheless, and now here I am, captain of a brand-spanking-new exploration behemoth, off to find some aliens. The whole crew of 300 is already aboard, and we’re set to launch from Terra’s surface in less than five hours._

_This ship supposedly is super-fast. Rumor has it she can top out at half a lightyear per day, which according to the scientists on this ship is un-freaking-heard of. If our projections are correct, we’ll make it to the destination planet in less than two weeks. We’re talking about one lightyear further than Proxima Centauri in TWO WEEKS!_

_Anyway, I gotta go prep the ship for launch. See ya later, diary._

Bolt closed the entry. Apparently the Starchild was a big deal on Terra back in the day. He scrolled down to an entry dated two weeks in the future from the last entry.

_TUSC Starchild: Captain Frank Terrence's Log: Thursday, November 21, 2597, 06:59 Local Planetary Time_

_Well, after a bit of a scare with our Flux Drive, we finally made it. We had to stop for a day to fix a space-warp on deck five, and thankfully no one was hurt, but it did set us back a bit. The planet TUSC sent us to is beautiful. Initial scans show a wealth of life and THREE moons! That’s gotta make for some excellent views having those things hanging in the sky at night. I can’t wait to get down there and see the place for myself._

_Discovery Team’s telling me that the planet’s a lot like ours. Diverse ecosystems, lots of wildlife. They’re picking up some odd readings with some of the creatures, though. They’re not telling me much, but it seems like this planet’s got a particularly dangerous species living on it._

“Oh, you don’t know the half of it,” Bolt told himself jokingly.

_Anyway, we’re going to call the star this planet orbits Devonhart, which would make this planet’s official designation “Devonhart 3.” So yeah, we’re not Terrans anymore, we’re officially residents of the third planet from Devonhart. DT tells us orbital scans will be complete in a couple days, and then we’ll prep the ship’s drop shields and go in-atmo. We’ve got big plans for this planet. BIG plans._

Bolt closed that log entry. There were many more logs below this one. He didn’t want to stick around here forever, he was excited to see the Starchild, so he scrolled to the bottom of the list, and found that this log had been marked URGENT: DISTRESS SIGNAL ENCLOSED.

_Uh-oh,_ Bolt thought, _Looks like they had some trouble._ Bolt opened the log.

_TUSC STARCHILD: EMERGENCY LOG ENTRY AUTO-GENERATED BY SYSTEM (BLACK BOX PROTOCOL) 12/26/2601 21:49 LPT_

Interestingly, this log entry included audio. He opened the sound file, and the sounds of panic and destruction came from the PC’s speakers, echoing in the empty room. The man’s voice was punctuated by absolute fear. Human screams could be heard in the background along with what could only have been dragon noises.

"This is a Code Three distress signal... Ship name: TUSC Starchild... Ship callsign... Bolt 3... Ship UVID: 34, 34- triple-zero, ONE!... All Terran vessels in the vicinity are legally obligated to respond... Coordinates are found in the subwave of this frequency..." The man's face shattered into abject terror as a dragon's roar sounded in the background. "PLEASE HURRY!!"

The audio log abruptly cut out. System-generated log entries followed.

//WristUnit Signal Lost//

//Incendiary damage detected to surface-level habitation//

Soon the screen filled up with messages about lost WristUnit signals. Bolt knew what that meant. The original crew of the Starchild was being eaten and/or burned alive. The same thing that had happened to Bolt's friends and family was happening to these poor souls.

//All WristUnit Signals Offline: Mission has been declared "Failure." Setting Starchild into Stasis Mode for retrieval by TUSC retrieval team//

//END LOG//

"But if everyone died that night…” Bolt asked himself, “How did anyone survive to make my ancestors, my father... _Me?”_

Suddenly, Bolt’s WristUnit flashed. “Proximity-based trigger point reached. Playing message from Darter [MissingLastName].”

Bolt quickly raised his wrist, and a hologram of his dad appeared.

“You made it to the dock. Great job, son. You’re closer than I’ve ever been to escaping this forsaken planet.”

“Forsaken? Wow, dad _really_ hated this place.”

“There’s something I need to tell you before you go. I think it’s right that you know the true history of the village before you take off. That way you will always know where you came from.”

Bolt looked closely at his father’s face. He could see little digitized tears coming off of his eyes, and his face conveyed pride to him. Bolt’s heart swelled. _Dad’s proud of me getting this far!_

“Sit down, son. This is going to be a long one. Okay. You’ve probably seen the ship’s logs by now, since they were pre-loaded onto your WristUnit.”

“They were!?” Bolt was actually surprised by this.

“What the logs _don’t_ tell you is what happened _after_ the Burning of “Original” Outpost Village. The computer thinks we all died, that the dragons got all of us. Little did it know… We had some young kids in the village, mostly around three years old, who hadn’t been fitted with WristUnits yet. No WristUnits meant that according to the ship’s computer… they didn’t exist. So while everything was shut down, the Starchild, the dock, the research center… These children kept on living. They survived in the dragon shelter and came back up to find the place had been wrecked, and all the adults were gone.”

“Just like what happened to me…” Bolt said sadly to himself.

“But they were strong fellows. They didn’t give in. They rebuilt Outpost Village from the ground up. The place wasn’t touched by dragons for two whole centuries, thanks to their genius camouflage skills! The houses they built still stand to this day!”

Bolt scoffed. “Not anymore.”

“But the downside of it all was… The kids were uneducated at that point. Their mommies and daddies had been gobbled up before they could tell the children where they came from. They didn’t know about the underground research center their parents had built. And so began the two-hundred years of ignorance. They thought that they were bona fide natives to ‘Devonhart 3,’ since we knew at that point the planet had natives that looked almost just like us.”

“So they did find the ‘scavengers,’” Bolt said.

“Anyway, we lived the medieval life for two centuries. Then _I_ came along. I found a key that opened the hatch to the underground bunker below the village, buried beneath the ground while I was playing ‘treasure hunt’ as a kid. You can bet I was just as shocked to find that hatch as you were, Bolt. I went down there and found _so_ much! I spent the entire rest of my childhood researching the technology our ancestors left behind. The only person I eventually told about the place was my partner… Your mother.”

“Mom knew…” Bolt whispered, “That’s why she was telling me to go to the Starchild the night she died...”

“Eventually me and her fell in love, and before we knew it, she was with child. Right away I knew that our child was going to be blessed with the technological wonders of the Terrans. That’s why we decided to name you Bolt. You are named after the Starchild’s callsign, Bolt Three. That ship’s a part of you. You were _born_ to fly it.”

Bolt looked at his father skeptically. If that was literally the only reason his father had him, then maybe he was a little too obsessed with leaving Pyrrhia.

“As soon as your umbilical cord was cut, we rushed your dripping body downstairs to the implant lab where I was conducting my research. I already had a selection of high Terran nanotechnology I had prepped to have inserted into you. The implant tech achieved by the Terrans is _phenomenal_. These devices are implanted at birth, and they literally _grow_ with their hosts! You, my son, have some impressive functionality built into your body, and frankly, I’m jealous of you.”

Bolt chuckled a little bit at that.

“What this is all building up to, Bolt, is this. You’re destined to take us all home, Bolt. No doubt we’re waiting for you outside that door!”

His hand pointed straight at the glass office door, leading Bolt to wonder just _how_ personalized these messages were. Of course, the message was obviously inaccurate in that _no one_ was waiting outside _._ He was alone here; everyone in the village he was _supposed_ to “take home” was dead, long ago burned away to ash or digested by a Crimson Gang member.

“Remember, Bolt. We’re all counting on you. I couldn’t be prouder to call you my son. Good luck out there, my boy.” He looked tearfully with joy at him. “Safe travels.”  
  


The message finally ended. Bolt wiped away a tear on his cheek. His father had been dead for eleven years, but he had planned this far ahead that even now he had somewhat relevant messages for him saved away in his wrist.

Bolt was energized by his father’s encouraging words. He stood up and rushed out the door, down the halls, checking his map as he went.

_Let’s go to the Starchild._


	12. Epilogue: Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wanna see what the Starchild looks like? I've posted a drawing I made of it on my Deviantart at https://www.deviantart.com/jbhughes54enwiler/art/Terran-Exploration-Vessel-Starchild-847381779
> 
> Make sure to read the description of the picture too, for some amazing facts about the vessel's history! (Read it after finishing the epilogue, though, to avoid a spoiler I included in there)
> 
> \-----------------------------------------------------------------------
> 
> Bolt leaves Keeper to embark on the quest his father intended him for. All alone, he steps aboard the fabled "Lost Flying City of the Scavengers," AKA the Terran Unified Star Command Large Exploration Vessel "Starchild."
> 
> Blasting off past Pyrrhia's three moons, Bolt will face the greatest challenge of his life, wrangling the aging starship as it flies, countless times faster than light, to a world unlike any other:
> 
> Ours.
> 
> \-----There's a bit of dialogue in this chapter that was brought to my attention on another platform for being problematic. I have left a comment explaining the dialog's true meaning in the comments on this chapter. My apologies if there is any misunderstanding regarding Bolt's line in that scene.

Epilogue: Homecoming

-Starchild Dock-

Eventually Bolt reached a very big door, similar to the blast doors in the Outpost research base, though this one was big enough that its holographic lock indicator had _three_ rings, which meant that this door had been built with a triple seal typically standard on starship gangplanks. This was it. On the other side of this door was the ship he had been born to pilot.

Bolt held up his hand to the door. His WristUnit flashed and the door confirmed his identity as the captain of the ship. The three holographic rings on the door sequentially rotated, and then the door slowly opened.

Behind the door was a long tunnel with tinted glass windows on both sides. He could see a white hatch door on the other side of the passage, which his brain told him was the ship’s own crew entry hatch located on deck six of the ship. Bolt looked out of the window. The lighting was dim on the other side, but he could just make out the silhouette of something _gigantic_ on the other side, lined up with the hatch at the end of the hall.

“No wonder the dragons called the Starchild a flying city,” Bolt commented, “This thing’s as big as a dragon’s castle, maybe bigger!”

Bolt jogged across the gangplank to the ship’s entrance. Since this was a starship, the entry hatch was an airlock, meaning it would take longer to open. He pressed his wrist up against a circular pad next to the door. His wrist flashed, but the ID pad on the airlock didn’t have a light to flash. Nonetheless the door said “Welcome aboard, Captain [MissingIdent]” before a loud hiss came out of the edges of the hatch, and it slowly slid open. Bolt walked in.

He was here.

-TUSC LEV Starchild-

After passing through an airlock chamber used to keep the ship pressurized when crew members went on spacewalks, he strolled into the main entry lobby of the ship. No fanfare, no message of congratulations from his father, just dim emergency lighting and silence.

Starchild was a ship built to hold thousands. It was very strange admittedly that for its return trip, the entire 1,120-foot-long ship would only be occupied and operated by Bolt. Thankfully, Starchild was advanced enough that the whole thing _could_ be flown by one person. Some other Terran vessels required at least a skeleton crew, and if Bolt were alone on one of _those_ ships, he’d be out of luck.

Bolt saw a terminal on the wall. He knew the ship had public crew-access computers placed at various points throughout its interior. It would be wise to check up on the ship’s status. Bolt wiped some dust and grime off of the screen, which was an old-style LED panel rather than a hologram.

The screen was lit, but had only these words on it and no way of doing anything else with it:

STARCHILD IS CURRENTLY IS STASIS MODE: PLEASE PROCEED TO BRIDGE TO MANUALLY OVERRIDE THIS STATE.

Stasis Mode, Bolt knew, meant that the ship had been put into an extremely low-power state, with even its life support turned off, to preserve the power core in the case of the crew being completely wiped out. This way whoever found the ship next, like a TUSC retrieval team or in this case, a teenager sanctioned by the crew’s descendants to fly the ship back to Earth, could still use the ship even centuries after its abandonment. According to the Starchild’s 900-page Engineer’s Manual that had been burned into his mind, Stasis Mode could preserve the latantite core that powered the ship for up to 800 years.

And as the terminal said, Bolt would have to go to the bridge, the nerve center of the Starchild, in order to wake the colossal ship up from its two-hundred-year nap. He checked his map, which had now updated to show the Starchild itself, a miniaturized, see-through model of the big bird floating above his wrist. The bridge was one deck above him, at the top-front of the ship’s “head.”

Bolt strolled through the halls towards the vacu-lifts that allowed fast travel between decks.

Which, unfortunately, did not respond to any commands. The ship’s elevators were one of the myriad systems onboard Starchild that were shut down when the ship entered Stasis Mode. He would have to find an emergency ladder. They were usually placed near the vacu-lift bays, so it didn’t take long to find one. He opened the manual release for the hatch and looked inside.

This was one dangerous-looking ladder. It served all ten decks _and_ the maintenance deck below the first one, so the shaft the hatch opened into went _way_ down into the darkness of the ship’s guts, six stories below his feet. He would have to be _very_ careful here.

Bolt moved his left foot across the deep hole, and placed it on the nearest rung of the ladder. This ladder, unlike the ladder in his bedroom at Keeper’s shop, was totally vertical. It would take more effort to climb this one. He hoped his still-healing left arm was up to the task.

Bolt mounted the ladder the rest of the way, and trying not to think about the six-floor drop that awaited him if he slipped, he began to climb the ladder. Thankfully, he only had to climb one deck upwards.

A few rungs later, his left arm began to ache. _Uh-oh,_ Bolt thought, and he took the pressure off of that arm to rest a bit. Several seconds later, he continued to climb, and soon he reached the seventh-deck hatch. He kicked a special manual-release pedal on its inside, and the door opened wide. He stepped backwards off the ladder onto the deck, and looked around.

Bolt was in a hallway leading across the entire length of the ship, from its head to its rear end. He had to go left from the ladder to get to the bridge, and so he did. A long window went along the hull side of the passageway, and he looked out the window into the hangar.

He was very high off the floor, and most of the ground was obscured by darkness. He could see the gangplank extending off the ship into a port in the wall of the gigantic chamber, and further behind that, he could make out the ship’s colossal wings. The ship easily had at least a seven-hundred foot wingspan, big enough to drape over an entire dragon castle if they were flexible and not made out of rigid metal.

“Talk about Bigwings,” Bolt joked, remembering the MudWings’ title for the chief member of their families, as he had learned from Fen.

Bolt continued down the hall to a big door, which had the words “STARCHILD BRIDGE: AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY” painted on it.

Bolt held up his hand to the door.

Nothing happened.

“Umm... What!?” Bolt cried. He had come this far only to be locked out at the last moment!? Hang on, there _had_ to be some way of getting this door opened! He studied the door closely. No emergency override handle, no holographic ring to hold his wrist up to, nothing at all on the door to open it with. Starchild apparently had a serious design flaw: the ship could only be woken from Stasis Mode from the bridge… And the door to the bridge was powered down in the process of _entering_ Stasis Mode!

Bolt expanded his search to the area around the door. _There._ A panel was stuck to the wall a few feet from the door, with a complex symbol on it that Bolt knew meant it was a door maintenance access box. He walked over to it, and pried its magnetic cover off of it. Inside were a multitude of cords and wires, none of which had any discernible labels. No matter. Bolt had the entire Engineer’s Manual memorized, so he knew that if he pulled _this_ wire…

WHOOSH!

The door would open.

Bolt walked into the bridge of the Starchild. It was a _huge_ space. Ignoring the fact that he would not fit through the passageways leading to this chamber, Keeper himself would be capable of entering this room, and would even have space to spread his wings. Dominating the view were two things: a chair mounted onto a mechanical arm with several levers sprouting out of it, ( _That’s my seat,_ Bolt said in his head) and the gigantic windscreen covering the entire sloped front wall of the room, offering a wide view of the space in front of the ship.

Surrounding the front of the pilot’s chair were three other seats mounted in front of their own control panels. The one directly in front of his was for the captain, Bolt knew. The ones on either side were for the navigator and chief scientific officer. Bolt sighed. He would have to fill three of the roles this bridge was made for: captain, navigator, and pilot.

That would be a lot of work, but he knew that Starchild was fitted with flexible control systems that could have their panels shifted to other screens. In a pinch, and with some effort, he could even configure the ship to be flown from the engineering chambers at the stern. It would be useful if the bridge were to be destroyed, killing all the officers in it, since it would mean that the chief engineer could take over and pilot the Starchild from his end of the ship.

Bolt walked over and sat down in his chair. He shivered. The last person to sit in this chair could very well have been his ancestor two-hundred years ago. He pulled one of the levers next to him, and the chair rose up off the floor on its arm, jolting into place about twenty feet above the deck. A railing containing the ship’s steering controls unfolded around his front, both giving him control of the ship and preventing him from falling off and hurting himself. The whole thing, from a Terran viewpoint, would resemble a very technologically advanced high-chair.

Some holographic words began floating over the controls:

STASIS MODE ACTIVE: PRESS [HERE] TO INITIATE OVERRIDE

Bolt pushed his finger into the word “here” and the words disappeared. The words “EXITING STASIS MODE” popped up in its place for a couple seconds, then, to Bolt’s amazement, the entire room lit up, and his seat was surrounded by several holographic rings, forming into a globe around his body. These rings would tell him his current alignment and flight level, since the artificial gravity aboard the ship would always keep the decks “level” even if he was stupid enough to be flying Starchild upside-down, which in space at least was possible.

Several seconds later, the ship’s computer woke up, and a few holographic displays appeared over his controls, completing the interface he would need to pilot the ship.

......................

//INITIALIZING...//

.....................

TERRAN AEROSPACE ENGINEERING, INC

MODEL 2144A4 "FALCON"

.........................

SHIP DESIGNATE: "T.U.S.C. STARCHILD"

SHIP UVID: 3434-0001

SHIP CALLSIGN: BOLT 3

RUNNING SYSTEMS CHECK...

\--GRAVITY PLATES OK

\--LATANTITE CORE OK

\--//MAIN ENGINES MAINTENANCE NEEDED//

\--LIFE SUPPORT OK

\--POWER GRID OK

\--SHIELDS OK

\--WEAPONS N/A

\--NAVIGATION SYSTEMS OK

\--CONTROLS OK

\--//FLUX DRIVE MAINTENANCE NEEDED//

\--COOLING SYSTEMS OK

\--COMMUNICATIONS OK

\--//PILOT ROD MAINTENANCE NEEDED//

\--STRUCTURAL INTEGRITY 95%

.......................

ALL SYSTEMS OK, BUT SOME SYSTEMS ARE [197 YEARS] OVERDUE FOR REGULAR SCHEDULED MAINTENANCE AT THE NEAREST TAE DEPOT

........................

COMMANDING OFFICER RECOGNIZED

HELLO, [MISSINGIDENT]

READY FOR FLIGHT

With that, a deep rumble shivered through the ship. After so long being abandoned, Starchild was waking up, with a new master at her helm. Bolt clicked through some options and threw a switch. His console beeped and a message came up on the status screen.

//CAUTION: HANGAR BAY DOORS ARE CLOSED: PLEASE OPEN DOORS BEFORE LAUNCHING//

Bolt also knew he’d have to detach the gangplank. He pressed the button for that, then opened his console up and typed:

>ext_cmd, hangar_hatch- set: open

//HANGAR BAY DOORS OPENING//

A massive rumbling sound came from above the ship. Above his head the entire ceiling of the huge chamber the Starchild rested in was retracting. Obviously, this was only the _inner_ hatch retracting, as the hangar was under the ocean; there would be an intermediate chamber he would have to float Starchild up into in order to transition to the ocean to rise up into the air. Otherwise he’d be flooding the hangar and wrecking everything before he could even get up off the ground.

//INTERIOR HANGAR DOORS OPENING SEQUENCE COMPLETE//

//PLEASE START ENGINES AND PROCEED INTO AIRLOCK TO PREPARE FOR OCEANIC LAUNCH//

Bolt reached up to the keyboard and typed:

>engines- set: start

The console began to beep urgently at him.

//CONFIRM ENGINE IGNITION//

[YES] [NO]

With finality, Bolt selected “YES.”

_THOOM!!!!_

The whole ship jolted and shook.

……………………...

//MANUAL CONTROLS ONLINE//

//GRAVITY PLATES ONLINE//

//MAIN ENGINES ONLINE//

\--ALL HATCHES SEALED: READY FOR TAKEOFF--

Bolt flexed his fingers and moved them to their positions on the levers. He took in a _deep_ breath… And slowly pulled the lift controls upward.

For the first time in two-hundred years… The Terran exploration vessel called Starchild lifted with a heavy groan off the floor, and with the aid of her massive gravity plates on the undersides of her wings… She rose towards the roof weightlessly.

-Keeper-

Keeper the SandWing stood on the hill above where Bolt had gone down to fulfill his purpose. He felt so lonely now… But a light shone within him. Bolt had promised he would return. This parting was temporary. However long it took his friend to find what he was looking for on this new world… He would wait for him. He would even keep Bolt’s things in his house clean and ready to be used by him when he returned.

He wondered where exactly Bolt’s ship was. Hopefully it wouldn’t break out from the ground beneath him. That wouldn’t be good.

That was when he noticed that the ocean nearby was beginning to act up. It was frothy, and churning. Keeper glided down from the hill up to a cliff at the edge of the shore. Was this it? Was he about to see Bolt depart?

Before Keeper could blink, with a _rush_ of saltwater and salty sea air, a _colossal_ thing _erupted_ from the ocean, and Keeper was splashed with no small amount of seawater as the massive object quickly rose out of the sea with a strange _woop-woop_ sound. (Which was the sound of the gravity plates operating)

Keeper saw a window on the object as it rose ever higher inside of which he saw a number of contraptions, and just barely, the tiny outline of a human being.

This was the Lost Flying City of the Scavengers, right in front of him… _And his very own scavenger friend was in control of it!_ Keeper erupted with pride, and he flapped his wings joyfully and cheered him on as the city rose over his head, and with a gigantic _BOOM,_ the bird’s tail lit up, and the whole thing launched forward. He had _never_ seen something that _huge_ fly, much less with such grace! These extraterrestrial scavengers were masters of their craft: this white bird was a flying, soaring _miracle!_

The Lost Flying City of the Scavengers took off into the distance, gaining altitude as it went.

-Bolt-

At the helm of the Starchild, Bolt could see the open sky in front of him, and the ground beneath him moving at a breakneck pace. The way Starchild flew in order to exit the atmosphere, he would need to fly at an upward angle, for so far that he’d pass over the Ice Kingdom before even entering the middle layers of the sky. He took the controls and angled the ship at just the right trajectory, then went full-throttle. He looked down at some dragons flying below him, who were no doubt currently in a mix of panic, disbelief, and terror at seeing something this huge flying near them.

Bolt felt a surge of happiness knowing that the dragons were feeling this way. It was what he had felt for eleven years every time he saw one of _them_ flying overhead.

“Yeah, that’s right!” Bolt shouted playfully, “Now _I’m_ the giant flying beast and _you’re_ the puny little bugs!”

Though Bolt would never hurt the dragons. He would have to be careful about his flight path. As agile as the Starchild was, it was big enough that it would be all too easy to peg a traveling dragon in his path without even seeing him.

-Seagull the SkyWing-

Seagull, a guard at the SkyWing palace protecting its airspace, flew in a panic all the way back to the castle after seeing the biggest freaking thing he had ever seen rise up out of the ocean and take off into the air, seemingly towards the palace. He had heard the legends of the scavenger’s ancient “flying city,” and seeing it now scared him to no end.

Seagull flew at top speed, barely out-pacing the giant bird, and landed at a gallop in the throne room, where he panted and blurted out to Queen Ruby: “Giant flying scavenger den! Headed this way! We need to get you to the royal bunker!”

-Queen Ruby of the SkyWings-

Ruby looked at Seagull, and immediately thought the guard was insane. _Saw a flying scavenger den… More like he got hit in the head with a rock thrown by a scavenger._

Ruby decided to play with the guard a little. “Oh my goodness, what are we going to do? The scavvies have a cute little flying den and it’s headed this way.”

The guard, alarmingly, looked serious. “I would hardly call that thing _cute_ OR _little,_ your majesty.” He flipped his wings in a panicked fashion. “It’s bigger than the entire palace!!”

Suddenly, Ruby could hear cries of terror coming from the palace beneath her. Followed by a dull rushing sound in the distance.

The guard was right. Something _huge_ was coming.

Ruby quickly left the guard behind and flew out of the throne room to look to the south. She could see it even from here. A massive white bird-shaped object flying with an impossible speed for its size straight towards the palace! Though it seemed that the object was not on an attack vector. It looked as if it was trying to gain altitude. Which was ridiculous, since the “flying scavenger den” was already at the highest height most dragons could attain.

And yet it still continued upward. If it continued at this rate the den would ascend above the sky into space!

“What under the three moons are the scavengers trying to accomplish!?” Ruby yelled to herself. She noted in her head nonetheless, _Be careful around scavengers from now on… There’s apparently no telling what they’re capable of._

-Bolt-

Bolt had built up enough speed with the Starchild that just like when he flew with the LinkSuit, a big boom shook the ship and the speedometer on the instrument panel switched from “766 MPH Ground Speed” to “Mach 1.” It was mind-boggling that something this _big_ could move this _fast._ And he knew that the ship was capable of moving infinitely faster once it was in space.

Bolt soon passed over the northern shore of the Sky Kingdom, leaving Pyrrhia altogether, and now he was flying over open ocean. At this point his altimeter read “163,680 FT” and the number was steadily rising. He knew that no dragon could catch up to him now, he was halfway out of the atmosphere. He would end up crossing the planet’s north pole before getting the rest of the way out. Bolt sat back in his chair and stayed the course.

-Thirty Minutes Later-

Bolt looked out of his windscreen and could hardly believe his eyes. The sky was no longer blue, he was now so high up that the ship’s bow was barely touching the edge of space. And sure enough, soon the ship announced “Atmospheric Exit Complete” and suddenly, Bolt was weightless, and floating up out of his seat.

“Crud!” Bolt shouted, and gripped the armrests of the pilot’s chair to avoid floating into open air.

Bolt scrambled across the controls, and found the switch for “ACT. ART. GRAV.,” shorthand for “Activate Artificial Gravity” and he threw the digital switch on his control panel. The sounds of various objects _thudding_ to the ground rang out throughout the ship, and soon Bolt himself was thrust back into his seat.

Bolt marveled at the view. He had done it. He was in space! Now he just needed to clear the planet’s moons and he could do something _really_ amazing: break the light barrier.

Terra was a _tremendous_ distance from Pyrrhia. It would require the ship’s very top speed with the assistance of its “flux drive” to travel there in a reasonable amount of time. As the log entry of the old captain said, Starchild had a maximum safe velocity of half a lightyear per day, which was a speed that made Bolt’s head spin. If one were to try to convert that speed into miles per hour, the number would be so huge that Bolt wouldn’t even be able to express it properly as a whole number. Once that flux drive kicked in, he would be catapulted forward at hundreds of thousands of times faster than light.

Bolt tapped a button on the control panel, and called up a camera feed from the Starchild’s stern. He looked back down at the planet he had came from. Pyrrhia sat almost directly below him. He remembered saying when he was five that he would laugh at how little the dragons looked from this high up, but that wasn’t quite possible here because no dragons were even _visible_ from this high up.

Neighboring Pyrrhia were several other continents. One of them, just like Pyrrhia, was shaped somewhat like a dragon. He wondered what kind of dragons lived there, and whether humans lived there too.

Bolt realized he was still only traveling at Mach 1.5 and that he’d take weeks to get past the moons at this rate. He threw the throttle all the way forward, and the ship _rushed_ forward, building up to what the speedometer said was “33% SL” (thirty-three percent of the speed of light) within seconds. At this speed, the planet quickly became tiny in his rear viewfinder, and soon he passed one of the moons, with the other two showing up in the distance as he flew.

Within moments, he was in open space, and he decided it was time to truly embark. His hands flew across the controls. This would be a big test of his abilities as a pilot: traveling at FTL speeds was dangerous. One miscalculation and the Starchild would jump straight into a star or crash at mind-boggling velocities into a planet.

Thankfully Starchild was equipped with the finest AI of its time. It would help Bolt find the right trajectory and path to take. Ships could only move at FTL speed in a straight line; if Earth were not in a straight line with Devonhart 3, he’d have to periodically slow down to course-correct. He called up the AI on his instrument panel.

“Please state destination,” it said.

“Earth,” Bolt replied.

“Please wait,” said the AI as it crunched massive amounts of numbers and assembled a flight plan. About a minute later, it was finished.

“Destination coordinates set, captain. Flux drive charging.”

Outside the vessel, the thrusters at the back of the ship began to build up a blinding white glow, and the space around the ship began to stretch and distort. If anyone could see this, they would find that it was a breathtaking sight, a massive display of technological power.

Back inside the ship, Bolt’s environment was permeated with a loud whining sound as the flux drive built up power, and the stars in the viewscreen began to stretch outward into streaks.

“Flux drive ready,” The AI said, and Bolt threw forward a lever to his left.

_BANG!!!!!_

Instantly the view in front of him was replaced with a chaotic scene of streaking stars and tendrils of rainbows, which were light rays being refracted by the ship’s space distortions. The ship shook and trembled. It would take a few minutes to reach cruising speed, at which point the ship would stabilize. This was the most dangerous part of a jump; if the ship’s hull wasn’t in good condition, the forces of the jump could tear the ship to shreds.

_BANG!!_

The whole ship jolted in such a way that Bolt was tossed around in his seat. Bolt looked at the status readout on the control panel. Bolt’s fears were confirmed. He was losing hull integrity. After two hundred years without preventative maintenance, the ship’s protective hull plating had worn out.

_BANG!!_

A pulsing alarm sounded from his control panel. If he didn’t stabilize soon, the ship would be ripped to pieces. And he knew he couldn’t deploy the energy shields; they were light-based and wouldn’t be able to keep up with the ship at this speed.

“Hull integrity at eighty percent,” Said the AI.

And then, relief. The ship stopped shaking and the chaotic star-streaks on the screen calmed down a little.

Bolt looked at his display readouts, and activated the ship-wide intercom. “Stabilizing at 0.4988 lightyears per day. Hull integrity at seventy-five percent. Estimated arrival in twelve days.” He didn’t have to announce the status of the jump like this since he was the only person aboard, but he felt it would make it sound more official if he followed protocol.

And with that, his job was done. He handed control of the ship to autopilot and had the pilot’s chair returned to floor level. Bolt stood up out of the seat, and decided to explore the ship bit more.

Bolt’s stomach grumbled. “Well, I guess my first destination is the mess deck.”

Bolt called up his handy 3D map of the ship. By pressing a holographic button on the edge of the projection, the major chambers onboard the ship became labeled.

“Wow, this ship has fifty bathrooms, twenty-five for each gender,” Bolt commented, “And only one person to use them.”

Bolt looked over the deck plans and eventually found the place where food was served. Obviously there would be an obvious problem: The ship hadn’t been touched for two centuries; there was no one alive here to serve food, and all the ingredients would have disintegrated by now. Thankfully, the Terrans had that thought out too.

Invented during the first forays into space travel, the Raw Matter Processor, or RMP, could rearrange the molecules found in Raw Atomic Material cartridges to instantly produce almost anything, most predominately food and drinks. When space travel in those days could take decades, and you only had so much space for food and supplies, the technology was a godsend. And a plus for Bolt’s situation: the RAM carts only had a shelf life of a thousand years. They’d still be fresh when he popped open a can.

Bolt took a vacu-lift (Which thankfully was running now) down to deck five, where most of the habitation facilities were. Everything below this level was storage, where the supplies for building the dock and the first iteration of Outpost Village were kept. Engineering was on deck two at the stern. He would check that place out when he was finished eating.

A slight rumble went through the ship as he passed into the mess deck. He hoped the Starchild would hold up for the rest of the trip; it had taken a decent amount of damage during its acceleration.’

The mess deck, ship-speak for “cafeteria” or “eating hall,” was a wide chamber filled with long tables, resembling a smaller, more futuristic version of the great hall in the SandWing palace. Lined up on the wall in the back of the room was what he was looking for: the RMP machines. He ran up to one that looked the least worn-out of the group.

An LED screen on the front of the device told him to insert a RAM cartridge. A helpful animated graphic appeared next to the text showing him where to find one, and where to insert it. Bolt walked to the corner of the mess, and found a dispenser on the wall with a poster next to it declaring the importance of sticking to one’s ration assignments.

Thankfully, according to TUSC regulations relating to exploration-vessel supply loadouts, Starchild was equipped with enough RAM carts to last the ship twice as long as its designated mission duration. The ship still had plenty of carts for him to peruse. He pulled a RAM cartridge, which was an aluminum cylinder painted with the corporate logo of its manufacturer, out of the dispenser and a new cylinder slid down to take its place.

Bolt walked over to the RMP and inserted the cylinder with its guide arrow pointing forward into a circular port on the front of the machine. A motor inside the port gripped the cartridge and pulled it into the machine, and soon the screen lit up with the full menu.

Bolt looked with awe at the utter _selection_ he had to choose from. Almost the entirety of Terra’s famously varied cuisine was at his disposal. It would take hours to look through it all. Many of these dishes he hadn’t even heard of before.

He decided to stick with something familiar. He called up a quick-search box and typed “venison” into the bar. Several variations came up in response. Fried venison, seared backstrap, venison bourguignon. Dishes that were well beyond his cooking ability, some even beyond his imagination. His stomach longed for a simple fire-grilled spiced venison dish straight from the wilderness, something the Terrans, with their advanced society, were likely unfamiliar with.

Bolt settled for the seared backstrap. He picked out a side of grilled potatoes to go with the meat, then selected a simple glass of purified water to drink. Looking at the drink menu, he never thought there would ever be such a varied selection of beverages available to a person. All manner of juices, milks of various animals, and some strange category of drink called “soda.” There was also a menu of the beverage variety that nearly killed him a couple months ago, “alcohol,” but that menu was grayed out.

When he tried to open it, (Out of curiosity) it simply told him he was below the legal Terran age limit for consumption of alcoholic drinks. Not as if he actually _wanted_ to drink more of that poison, but it was interesting that the system was programmed to know his age.

With his meal programmed in, he pressed “Confirm Order” and a loud whirring came from the RMP, before a door opened on the front and inside was one of the finest meals he had ever seen.

Bolt instantly began salivating. The Terrans ate like kings, every last one of them! He had _never_ seen a plate this perfect! His meal at the SandWing palace was good, of course, but the meal wasn’t as tailored to him as this was. He pulled the plate and the large cup of water out of the RMP and carried it over to the dining area.

Bolt chuckled a little. _I wonder where I’m going to sit?_ He joked within himself. He had a cafeteria meant to seat _hundreds_ to himself. He decided to just sit at the table closest to the RMP he used, and sat on a bench while setting his plate down on the table in front of him.

Bolt tore into the meat with his bare hands, not aware that there were utensils available for him to use at a station in the middle of the RMP bay. The meat was delicious. He couldn't tell the difference from real venison, even though this was really only a simulation of deer flesh. Soon the main dish was finished, and he took a big gulp of water.

Water was of course simple enough to produce, humans had invented a way to produce the fluid using the RMP process _way_ before RMPs capable of producing complex food were developed. It was hard to get water wrong, and therefore this was the cleanest, freshest water he had ever tasted. Obviously, it didn’t come from a natural source, so the H2O was at one-hundred percent purity, with not a single atom of any other molecule.

Bolt finished the potatoes, and wondered what he was going to do with his plate and cup. Bolt shrugged and got up, and left his dishes at the table. It wasn’t like anyone else was around to complain that he had left a mess behind in the mess hall.

Bolt walked back to the vacu-lifts and selected deck two on the control panel. After sliding downward for a little bit, he arrived at the lower deck, which noticeably had a more stripped-down feeling to it. Exposed pipes and wires tracked along the walls here, and the sounds of the ship’s engines roaring away were much louder down here.

A sign on the wall warned him he would need a Serenity Headset to proceed any further towards the stern. His education told him a Serenity Headset was an advanced noise-cancellation device that allowed him to hear speech perfectly while almost completely muting out dangerous noises. It was a must for working in loud environments. And Bolt had no idea where to find one.

Bolt decided to consult the nearest crew-access terminal for help finding one.

“Oh, there’s a supply closet with them down the hall from here,” Bolt declared to himself after consulting the guided deck plan.

Bolt walked towards the bow and found a closet labeled “Engineer’s Supply: Authorized Personnel Only.” Despite the restricted nature of the closet, it was not locked. Bolt pulled open the door and looked inside. There were tools everywhere, everything an engineer would need to keep the ship running smoothly. On a charging rack was a pair of “earmuffs,” which Bolt knew was a Serenity Headset. He pulled it off its rack and slipped them over his ears.

Right away Bolt was plunged into silence. He couldn’t hear the engines anymore, though he knew the headset was programmed to let in some engine sounds if he were up close so he would know if anything had gone wrong. Bolt exited the closet and began the long walk back to the ship’s rear.

Five minutes of walking later, he reached a section of the ship where apparently the lights had failed to activate when the Starchild woke up. Only the emergency light strips were glowing. This, with the strange machinery everywhere and the dull mechanical roar he could hear through the Serenity Headset, made for a rather uneasy environment.

A huge orange blast door stood at the end of the hall. Painted in big white letters were the words:

TUSC STARCHILD: CENTRAL ENGINEERING SECTOR

Bolt pressed his wrist against the ID pad and soon he was in. The chamber inside was _huge._ It stretched upward for five whole decks! This was the beating heart of the whole ship. Pipes, wires, cords, and massive mechanical constructs filled the entire space, all crowned by the emergency lighting with an eerie orange glow.

With the ship currently running at its upper limit, no doubt the noise in this chamber would be loud enough to shatter his eardrums if he weren’t wearing protection.

Bolt could identify almost everything here since he knew intimately how to fly the ship. Off in the corner was the oxygen generator, the most important part of the life support system. The big cylinder with a blindingly white ring of light on its front was the latantite core, inside of which was the mystical crystal element latantite, which alone generated all the power the ship needed. Connecting the core to the other parts of the ship was the pilot rod, which converted the raw power of the crystal into usable energy for the ship’s systems. The gigantic rotating drum off towards the rear was the main engine which supplied the massive amount of force needed to move the ship forward.

Just like different humans in a village had different jobs to keep the community alive and thriving, so did the machines in this room allow such a wonder of technology as the Starchild to fly among the stars. Bolt was in awe.

Bolt decided he had seen enough, and he left the engineering chamber to go back to the vacu-lifts. Next, Bolt decided, he would try to find a place to sleep for his almost two-week journey. No doubt there was a lavish captain’s quarters somewhere waiting for him. He called up a terminal and looked for the captain’s quarters on the map.

“Deck Nine, Sector Two,” Bolt read aloud. That meant that his chambers were near the top of the ship, near mid-ship where the wings met. He took the vacu-lifts to deck nine. Deck ten was where the ship’s computer core was located, where the AI currently flying the Starchild had its brains at. He would check that out later.

Bolt decidedly was tired, even though there was no way of knowing the time out here, so he hoped the captain’s chambers were up to snuff after two-hundred years of disuse. He walked down the hall, and soon came across his room. He presented his WristUnit to the door, and it popped open after saying “Welcome, Captain [MissingName].

Bolt’s room, or rather, “Captain Frank Terrence’s” room, still had some of the personal effects of the previous leader of the vessel. This fascinated Bolt. He would get to see some relics of the lifestyle of a long-dead Terran officer. Right away he noticed a very ornate outfit hanging on a hook, easily the _most_ ornate outfit he had ever seen. It was Captain Terrence’s dress uniform, which wouldn’t have been needed in Pyrrhia since there was no need for ceremonies there.

Bolt looked over the uniform. A medal hung from the chest of the top piece, bearing an emblem that apparently distinguished the captain as one who was recognized for taking an injury during an official test flight.

“You can get medals in the Terran military for that?” Bolt commented, “Do these people just recognize everything, or do they not have real wars anymore?”

As Bolt would learn later when he arrived at Earth, he was coincidentally right on the second count. The humans of Terra were a peaceful race, only engaging in combat with _other_ species from _other_ worlds, and even then only when they are directly attacked by the aliens. The reason _why_ such an emotional and strong-spirited race is also peaceful (A huge rarity among this class of intelligent life form) is a long story, and is best saved for another time.

Bolt continued examining the relics the old captain had left behind. That was when he saw a small picture frame sitting on a nightstand, next to the captain’s bedside ship status terminal. It contained a photograph of a man with a woman and a girl who looked to be about seven years old. _It’s his family,_ Bolt realized. Handwritten along the bottom of the picture, with what seemed to be the writing of a child, was:

_Good luck out there, daddy! We’ll miss you!_

_Sally_

Bolt figured out that the captain, and no doubt many other people on this ship, had left behind their families when they set out on this journey. Some of them had brought their wives and children along, but back then, space travel was dangerous, and many crew members opted to keep them safe by having them stay at home.

Then Bolt realized that this little girl never found out what ended up happening to her father. He recalled the terrifying final audio log the captain had left behind. He decided that, maybe, it was better she didn’t know that her beloved parent had been killed and eaten by an alien dragon. Knowing how he felt about what happened to _his_ family eleven years ago, he felt it would be much nicer to just _not_ know that his family had died that way.

Obviously, he couldn’t tell her now anyway, even when he got to Earth. Since the picture was likely taken in 2597, the year the ship took off, Sally Terrence would be about 207 years old today, which, unless Terrans had some astounding longevity, would mean that she was _long_ dead. Bolt set down the photograph and sat down on the bed. It was very comfy, even after this long. Admittedly it felt a little _wrong_ that he was sleeping in a dead man’s bed, but there wasn’t much of a choice, unless he wanted to try sleeping in the pilot’s chair in the bridge.

Bolt tucked himself in under the blanket and quickly fell asleep.

-Twelve Days Later-

Bolt was woken up by an alarm sounding across the ship, and loud _booms_ shaking the hull. He jumped out of bed and ran at top speed for the bridge as the vessel shook from stern to bow. After twelve days of peaceful, smooth sailing across the stars, the wave of terror hitting him was fresh and powerful.

He arrived at the bridge to find that the ship had entered its emergency alert mode, causing all the screens to turn red. Bolt jumped into the pilot’s chair and rose up to its operating level, then consulted the status of the ship.

The Starchild was finally beginning to succumb to the forces of extended FTL travel. Hull integrity was dropping rapidly.This wasn’t good.

Bolt was so close, and now it seemed like he would never make it, that he would die when the ship’s hull ruptured and he was catapulted at speeds that would tear him to atoms out into space.

“Starchild!” Bolt shouted, which was the wake word for the AI’s voice interface.

“Commanding Officer Recognized,” Said the AI, “Hello, [MissingName].”

“How long until the ship breaks apart?”

“Hull integrity will reach critical levels in thirty minutes.”

Bolt paused for a second, then asked: “How long until we reach Earth?”

“About thirty minutes.”

“ _Shit,_ ” Bolt cursed to himself.

Bolt was stuck in a hard place. Either he’d never get to Earth and would be stuck flying through space at sub-light speeds for the rest of his life, or he’d die in the process of getting to Terra.

_Darn it, I’ve come this far,_ Bolt said in his head, _I’ll go the rest of the way or die trying._

Bolt could hear a huge crashing sound come from below him. Starchild was coming apart at the seams. All he would have to do to stay alive is make sure the engines stayed running, and the hull remained intact, for the next half hour. Easy as pie!

\------------------------------------------

Fifteen minutes in, a _huge_ sound of rending metal came from behind him. Bolt swallowed nervously, and checked the wildly flashing status readout for what had just happened.

His port-side wing had been completely ripped off.

A long beep sounded at his workstation. “WARNING!” Said the AI, “ATMOSPHERE BREACH ON DECKS FOUR AND FIVE. PLEASE SEAL OFF DECKS FOUR AND FIVE TO AVOID TOTAL LIFE SUPPORT FAILURE.”

“Uhh, uhh…” Bolt sounded while panicking. “Where’s the button for sealing the bulkheads!?”

In the nick of time, he found the controls for the bulkhead seals inside the “Emergency Countermeasures” menu on his control panel. There were buttons for sealing off each deck. Bolt pressed the switches for the decks the AI said were compromised, and soon, below him, solid metal compartment seals slammed down over all the corridors on those levels of the ship. Bolt was safe… For now.

Bolt looked through the windshield at the flying colors and streaking stars in his view. It was a beautiful, mesmerizing sight. He didn’t have long to go until he was home.

-Fifteen Minutes Later-

“Danger: Hull integrity at twenty percent.”

The sounds of the ship around him were a _mess_ of screeching metal and crashes of debris flying around. Before long, it would all be over for the Starchild, and the head of the ship would be ripped from the body, causing Bolt to be sucked out into space.

Bolt checked the navigation status. His heart leaped. He was here!

Bolt’s hand flew to the flux drive lever, and he pulled it with all his strength backwards.

_BOOM!!!!_

Instantly the field of streaking stars went away, and a blue planet rushed at tremendous speed into his view as his ship screeched to a halt. Some debris flew at high speed in front of the windscreen, some torn-off chunks of the ship that were flying in the Starchild’s wake at FTL speeds had been forced to a stop too.

Bolt was panting heavily in his chair. He had done it. Just barely, he had made it to Earth. There it was, with its single white moon, and a multitude of small flying shapes around it that must be other starships.

Bolt laughed nervously to himself. “Ha… Haha! I-I did it! I… I’m _home!!”_

-Meanwhile, at Terran Entry Control Station Alpha, Currently in Orbit over Old America-

“Sir, you’re going to want to see this,” Said a star-dar operator in the main station-to-ship communications sector of the space station.

The commanding officer of the chamber, Commander Buck Warner, approached him. “What am I seeing?” He asked him.

“Well, it appears to be a ship. It just dropped out of FTL speed right near us. It seems to have taken extensive damage.”

“Put out a call to it.”

“Yes sir.”

-Bolt-

A new window popped up on his control panel as Bolt was still panting his fear and exhaustion out of him. It had a pentagonal logo with what looked like streaks of sunlight on it, with the words “Official TUSC Transmission” printed below it. Bolt tapped the screen, and the words “Audio Only” appeared on the screen.

-Buck-

“Why aren’t we getting video?”

“It seems that the ship is too old to work with our video hailing system, Commander. We’ll have to just talk to them.”

Buck spoke up and spoke into the communicator: “Unidentified vessel, this Terran Entry Control Station Alpha. Please state your ident and business.”

A voice that sounded WAY too young came out of the speakers. “Umm… What’s an ident? I’m trying to get home!”

Commander Buck had seen many things happen in his tenure aboard the station, but _this_ topped the cake of weirdness.

“Your ship’s name, sir!” Said the subordinate to the ship, “What’s your ship’s name?”

“S-Starchild, sir!”

Buck turned to another operator, a woman operating a computer terminal. “Run that name through the TUSC database!” He barked at her.

Right away she got an answer. “Starchild, Commander. UVID 3434 dash triple-zero one. Declared missing in action in… 2602…” She looked very surprised and amazed.

“How old are you?” Buck asked the person on the other end, genuinely curious.

“Umm… Sixteen!”

Now a few officers on deck actually gasped.

Buck looked dumbfounded for a second, then tried calling his own superior. He jabbered away on his headset for a few seconds, then finally finished with:

"So you mean to tell me a wreck of a ship that's been missing for 200 YEARS just popped up in our space, being piloted by a TEENAGER, no less, and we have absolutely no protocol for this, that's what you're trying to say!?”

“How many are aboard your vessel, sir?” One of the subordinates asked the “captain” of the Starchild.

“Just me, sir!”

Buck slammed his headset to the floor in frustration. This was an event so unprecedented, there was absolutely no procedure for how to deal with it, and Buck was a strict man of protocol. He would have to make up his own way of fixing this mess.

“Get a boarding vessel out to that ship,” Buck finally declared, “We need to get that kid safely off that death-trap.”

-Bolt-

Half an hour later, Bolt heard a thick _clunk_ as a small spaceship attached itself to the crew entry hatch on the side of the ship. Bolt got off the pilot’s chair and ran downstairs to the hatch, which opened and Bolt was confronted with the very first Terran humans he had ever seen since his father died.

There were two of them. They both had pale skin just like him, and all wore uniforms with the words “Emergency Rescue Squad” printed across their chest. They looked at Bolt with concern, then beckoned him onto their own ship.

The rescue ship detached from the Starchild, and it flew back to the space station. Bolt looked at it through the porthole with wonder. It was the biggest building he had ever seen, easily three times as large as the SandWing palace, and it was floating high above the sky! He could see many starships of various shapes and sizes attached to a ring around the station. He remembered the person on the communicator saying it was the “Alpha” station. There were _more_ of these things floating around!?

“What’s your name, kid?” One of the rescue team members asked him.

“Bolt,” he replied.

“Last name?”

“What?” Bolt was confused.

“What’s your last name, kid?”

“I… Don’t think I have one!”

The person groaned. “Just put ‘Doe’ in the last name box,” his co-worker told him.

In a few minutes, the ship flew into a hangar on the outer ring of the station, and it settled to the deck on short, stubby legs.

“Come with us, Bolt,” Said one of the rescuers, and Bolt followed them onto the station.

Right away Bolt was overwhelmed. There were humans EVERYWHERE. He had _never_ seen this many human beings in one spot. With no dragons to “control the human population,” humanity had flourished into a species that probably covered the whole planet! _So many people to meet,_ Bolt thought.

The rescue-humans led Bolt into a white chamber and left him in there.

“Umm, wait!” Bolt called to them as a door shut him inside, “Where are you going!?”

Suddenly, an AI spoke. “Please hold still for disinfection.”

A clear gas filled the room. Terrified, Bolt held his breath. _They’re trying to suffocate me!?_ Bolt then realized what the AI said. _Oh, it’s disinfectant. They’re cleaning me off._

A few minutes later, the gas cleared out, and the voice said “Disinfection complete,” and the door opened. A man Bolt had never seen before met him outside. He wore a green uniform, and conveyed an aura of importance.

“Hello, Bolt,” He said. Bolt could tell he was trying to be friendly, but it seemed that the man was unused to dealing with “kids.” “I’m Commander Buck Warner. Welcome to Earth.”

Bolt was led to the civilian portion of the station, where he was dropped into an office, and someone touched a device to his WristUnit. The ring rotated for a few seconds, then “dinged,” and the device was removed.

“Wow, get a load of this,” The man said, “This kid’s got a blipping Mark One! He’s a walking antique shop!” He chuckled as he walked away towards a desk with a clerk sitting at it.

Buck walked over and began talking with the clerk along with the man who had touched his WristUnit. He couldn’t hear much of what they were saying over the distance they were at. He heard things like “Family” and “Blood relatives,” so he guessed they were trying to find someone to take care of him.

Then it seemed that the clerk had found someone, and when she told the Commander the person’s name, Buck gasped.

_What, am I secretly the Terrans’ long-lost heir to the throne or something?_

Buck came up to Bolt and told him, “There’s someone coming to get you from the surface. He’s a great man, and he’s going to take good care of you.” With that, Buck left, and Bolt was taken to a waiting room far from the office.

Bolt waited for several hours in the room, until the plastic chair started getting uncomfortable.

Then he saw him.

The man had unmistakable blond hair (Though Bolt figured that was more common around here) and was wearing a sleek jacket and strange blue pants that Bolt would later learn were called jeans.

The man walked right up to Bolt, seemingly recognizing him by his unusual, primitive clothing, and Bolt stood up to meet him.

“Bolt, is it?” The man asked.

Bolt nodded.

“I’m Harry Mitchell. Government says you’re related to my great-great-great… Well, seven greats, grandfather, on my mom’s side.” He laughed to himself. “I asked the gov’ for a kid to adopt, never knew they’d actually find one with the same blood as me!”

Harry held out his hand to Bolt. “You look like the name ‘Bolt Mitchell’ suits you.”

Bolt, in his naivete, became confused. “Bolt? Mitchell? So which one’s my name, is it Bolt or is it Mitchell?”

Harry erupted into hearty laughter. “No, silly! Mitchell’s your _last_ name! It’s the name of our family! Of _your_ family!”

Bolt looked at Harry. He knew he’d never replace his father, that spot was reserved for one man only, and his name was Darter. But he was going to give this “Harry” person a shot. He took his outstretched hand, and shook it, before the man drew him into a deep hug.

“Welcome to the family, little guy. Things are gonna be awesome from here on out.”

END OF ARC ONE

“Wings of Fire” created by Tui T Sutherland

“Bolt and Keeper” fanfiction concept developed and written by jbhughes54enwiler

The author would like to personally thank everyone who read and responded to this story. “I had a blast writing this, and I couldn’t be happier with its reception. Thank you all so much for enjoying this little window into Bolt’s world.”

-BOLT WILL RETURN-


End file.
